


Journey of Forlorn Hope

by officialzeloswilder



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: AU, AU-Alternate Universe, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Assisted Suicide, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Suicide Attempt, Unreliable Narrator, Vomiting, cruxis!lloyd, death of a minor character, zelos wilder centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4447547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officialzeloswilder/pseuds/officialzeloswilder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tethe'alla's mana begins to decline, their chosen, Zelos Wilder, must go on a journey to restore the world's energy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                Sebastian once told him after Father died that death was like going home.

                A lot of good that did to clear up Zelos’s misconceptions.

                What did home even mean? The vernacular was frustratingly subjective. If home was supposed to be seen in the cold winding halls of the manor he'd grown up padding around—or in the blank steel of Mother’s oil painted eyes—then just maybe he’d be the first angel condemned to Hell. It burned in his gut how much he felt like the image of her in his memories now. The way he sat where she once sat, staring out at the rocks that marked Her and His place in the garden (a good gap between the grave stones as if to say, even in death, they never loved one another) and the conveniently empty spot ready for Zelos once his use ran out.

                Going home sucked. Death better not be like going home. He’d been home for years, he didn’t want to further patter along on this road after death.

                But, then again, fearing the possibility made a lot less sense than living in the mansion now. Immortal hell… Could anything really beat what he’d seen so far? Tinges of red snow toyed along the edges of his memories and kissed the ever-repeating sonata of Mother’s voice humming, “You should never have been born,” in his head before she dropped dead to the Earth.

                _I’m trying to alleviate that, Mother. Just give me a minute and you’ll see._

                “Master Zelos.”

                Sebastian’s soft voice would have been otherwise unannounced had the butler not held a tiny tray in his hands. It clinked against the bottom of a single, empty glass and two bottles of unmarked substances as Sebastian tottered across the polished estate’s floor. Unmarked bottles simply because branding them would further incriminate Sebastian’s assistance in this well-organized euthanasia and Zelos actually didn’t want that. There remained at least one piece of himself that hadn't rot; Like the sturdy stem of a browned and stinking apple core. Besides, labeling was a bit of overkill.

                He snorted at the pun in his head. Wasn’t that the point?

                “What’ll happen? No going home stuff this time,” Zelos quickly reminded Sebastian. “Honestly, think it’ll burn? Poison sounds like it would burn.”

                He’d never know though. Every time an attempted poisoning had been made on his life he was simply told later, after the food taster was long done seizing up and falling off the edges of their conniptions. Zelos went to their funerals and used them as placeholders to remind himself just how many people died so he could live. Before he ever picked up a sword, he’d killed a dozen servants.

                Sebastian was silent, but Zelos hadn’t exactly expected a rapid-fire response to his question in the first place. The poor guy had Stockholm Syndrome—had been slipping away into corners to wipe his eyes when he caught Zelos in the midst of anything even slightly melancholy. He waited as Sebastian tried to be tasteful, professional, and kind, but it was doubtful that Sebastian knew anything about poison or how painful the effects were on a regular human’s body, let alone how they’d feel in a chosen’s holy vessel.

                “It will be painless,” Sebastian finally answered and Zelos smiled out the window. What did painless matter? People who kill themselves don’t care about pain going out, just snuffing out the pain after staying in the game for too long.

                “How bold of you to say.” Zelos twisted his body around from Mother’s place by the window. A chill came over him like the ghost of her had left him. He laughed, because laughing was easy and contagious and he couldn’t stand that sad, old dog look on Sebastian’s face anymore, and slipped up to Sebastian’s side to examine the tray up close.

                A tall wine glass, a bottle of the dark wine it would hold and then a smaller bottle, dwarfed by the other two items by size but not importance. “Looks like a baby’s bottle, yeah?” Zelos picked up the poison in its delicate container and held it to the light where it sludged from the movement, toxic enough in sight that Zelos would almost swear he didn’t need to drink it. But he knew better. Sebastian rocked from resting his body weight on his left leg over to his right, an uncharacteristic show of uneasiness.

                “The aftermath will be better than this,” Sebastian suddenly admitted.

                Zelos grinned and set the bottle back upon the tray.

                “Out of turn for a servant to say, Sebastian. You know, once I’m gone I doubt anybody’ll want you. I’ve tainted you with my free thought, you poor old man.”

                “I had no intention of moving on to another noble.”

                He took the tray from his oldest (only) friend and stepped over to Mother’s spot. “Complete the circle,” he murmured to himself.

                “Pardon, sir?” Sebastian’s voice was a hum in the back of the room, a presence Zelos had just assumed would float away with the poison now in his hand.

                He looked over his shoulder, flashed his best smile, and said, “Go and take a walk, man.” He turned his attention to the drinks, poured the poison first and then the wine like he was mixing party drinks instead of a toxicology report that would send even the high scholars of Sybak reeling in impress. The actions were smooth and Zelos couldn’t help the beam of pride in his gut of how good he was at arranging his own death, at giving everybody what they wanted. “Wouldn’t want you getting blamed for my poor decision making, now, would we?”

                Sebastian shifted again before taking a jaunty step forward, the motion surprising himself judging by the sudden widening of his eyes. “If it is all the same to you, Master Zelos, I would prefer to be here.”

                “Where did all this insubordination come from?” Zelos taunted.

                “My boss is… Resigning,” Sebastian managed the statement with a dry, twisted humor. Definitely no noble would want him now. Too much Wilder in him. “I have more confidence in my words to him.”

                Zelos patted his shoulder, just an intended one-two pat, but Sebastian’s hand reached up and clung tight until eye-contact was made. A sick, intense stare that finally broke Zelos’s smile in half as the tears budded and fell from Sebastian’s old eyes.

                “You are a good man,” Sebastian assured him.

                “It was never about being a good man.” Zelos clawed his hand away from Sebastian’s grasp and reached for the wine glass. It settled along his palm and cooled the burning edges where Sebastian’s mawkishness tore into him. “It was about being a good chosen. And I just…” Why was that mask still there? Admit it, you coward. “I just can’t do it.”

                “Nobody ever could.”

                Zelos glared out the window at Her and Him. Mother and Father. Cold figures of parenting in his life, no better than the farmers raising cattle to be lead to slaughter. Groom and pet one day only to eat the next day. So much of them in himself that he would do it for them since they weren’t around to finish the job. The poison settled, congealed, and the tar separated into clear accentuation akin to a guillotine axe sharpened and positioned by him. For him.

                He lifted the glass, tipped it back and forth for Sebastian to see, and then smiled. Sebastian’s composure fully broke then and his face crumpled into an ugly mess of wrinkles and agony.

                And all Zelos could say in the face of his pain was, “Whatever.”

                His toast only finished when he shoved it forcefully towards the image out the window far beyond the stones of his parent’s tombs towards the omnipresent tower. The reason he had to do this in the first place. He toasted that tower and then tipped the wine glass back, chugged it in three gulps, and chunked it at the window.

                The hole that broke through the glass lined up perfectly with the Tower of Salvation and it gleamed even when the poison jumped, burning, down the muscles of Zelos’s throat and into the crevices of his guts. It sent him tumbling down into the floor and crumpled, seizing, into the ivory of the floor. A separate part of him that suffered thought about how it was a nice room—much better than a son—and he congratulated his mother on her taste in interior decoration. The other part of him, that suffered in the fire of his self-inflicted toxicity, noted that the cruxis crystal around his neck clanged into the floor in a perfect 4/4 rhythm that became further musically punctuated by the gasps of Sebastian and his old clawing, shaking, fingers. Trying to keep him up. Trying to keep him… Something. Not alive. Surely not alive.

                More hands now. Some old, some young, some dainty, some strong. They poked into his body, into his mouth so he might wretch up the poison. The smell of candles resonated—probably priests realizing too late what his plan was. Sebastian cried loudly, too loud for an old man. Stop crying… Stop crying…

                Zelos passed out and the poison rumbled inside of him, a now physical manifestation of the sickness leaking from his mind. Vomit clung to the cruxis crystal stationed around his neck. It matched the color of the cuffs placed on Sebastian almost perfectly.

                Mother would have been proud of the coordination.

 

* * *

 

                Zelos woke periodically to the choppy arguments whispered and hissed in the hallway outside of his bedroom. Familiar voices made unfamiliar when outside of a church setting. Usually soft-spoken and in the midst of mild mannered prayers to the goddess, they cursed him now. Cursed the weak vessel.

                “He is unworthy of a chosen!”

                Yeah, buddy. He knew.

                "Let Seles do it," he heard once, but that wasn’t quite right. Chosen was as chosen does. The very qualification was in the title. You can’t choose a new chosen. What a weird paradox.

                Fuck, his chest hurt.

                Finally easing out of the darkness, an involuntary groan slipped out of his throat. Reflexes demanded he open his eyes, but a thick layer of mucus swathed around his eyelashes and clung to his lids. He probably looked really good. Maybe he couldn’t die because he was already in hell. He snorted at the hilarity, but the noise came out sounding like the grunt of a dying hog.

                Yeah, he was in hell alright.

                “I think he’s awake.” A boy, timid in an uncomfortable way, announced from the end of the bed. Zelos had the image of an idling kid hanging out, keeping watch, witnessing the slime of inactivity appear on his usually pristine body, and felt his stomach bottom out. Nobody had ever told him living through a suicide attempt would be so embarrassing.

                Palms slid up and under his body to raise him into a sitting position. Despite his best efforts, Zelos’s head lolled sideways and into the nook of whoever got stuck coddling his sick body. The breath of the nursemaid cut off when hair touched flesh—male skin that stunk of the woods and swordplay. Zelos noted clothes made of something body-hugging that clung to tight, taunt muscles. It turned what should have been a soft, human body into something hard and statuesque. The man who held him felt like the personification of the manor. Zelos groaned when his stomach flipped at the thought.

                The breath eased back into even beats as the man shifted underneath Zelos to reach outwards away from the two of them. He eased back, careful not to hurt Zelos, and then the hand that had previously rested against the small of Zelos’s back skated upwards and tugged the chosen’s head away from the neck he had nestled against.

                “He… _is_ awake, right?” Such an amount of uncertainty in the boy’s voice—as though Zelos would have had to be completely unconscious to resort to such a state of physical malleability.

                “More so than he has been in the past few days,” the man beneath Zelos spoke. His voice was deep—strong—stoic and dark. Zelos suddenly remembered the catacombs of his father’s voice and ached.

                He shuddered involuntarily at the sudden cold, wet cloth that doted upon his eyelids. The speaker wiped at the mucus, freeing Zelos of the snotty glue that fastened his gaze shut. As soon as the cloth slipped away, he fluttered his eyes open into half-centimeter slits, only to be blinded by the white illumination of the lamp shining at his bedside.

                His retinas felt weighed by pain medication, muscle relaxants, and far too much energy went into the sole practice of being able to focus. Before he could really rake in all the new things in his bedroom with any clarity, he saw colors: red, black, purple, and pink. They jostled in and out of focus and he could only assume the others in the room watched in silence, awed by the chosen one being such a fucking stupid looking dunce.

                There were three strangers surrounding his bed. A boy in red, a man in purple, and a woman who stood in the back corner, who looked like she wanted to be as far away as possible from him—Sheena. It was Sheena.

                And Sheena was not a stranger. Sheena was that sweet girl he’d known for many years. That Mizuho spit-fire who kicked and punched at anybody who dared oppress her. Sheena, the girl he taunted and prodded because of her verbal pyromaniac tendencies. The girl with a physique that could kill hearts as well as bodies. Strong, fast, beautiful Sheena that was all of those things in a way that many other women could not attest to being. The teenage assassin. The closest thing he had ever had to a friend.

                She caught him staring, read his confusion, and crossed her arms tight over her chest. Her brown eyes snapped over to the wall and she turned her body away from him.

                The sight of her faded out and his weak head rolled on his weak shoulders to try and angle a look at the man holding him up, the one in a nauseating amount of purple. As he shuffled and squirmed he unmistakably looked like the resident kingdom fool but he needed to figure out who this guy was. The man made no move to make the attempt easier on him and Zelos soon groaned and gave up, exhausted and chest heaving. Who cared what he looked like? Not Zelos, no siree.

                (Did Seles feel like this during her attacks? Did even moving her little head cause exhaustion? His heart suddenly hurt again...)

                “Are you feeling better?”

                That boy again. He wasn’t so much a boy as he was a teenager. He stood at the edge of the foot of the bed, 5’8” with a bit of a lift from his boots and 5’10” with the height of his electric shock high hair. He wore enough red to double as a suicidal bull-fighter, but the red only managed to distract momentarily from the uncomfortable looking belts that wrapped around the kid—four on each side of his body, strapping him in as if he honestly believe the bullshit metaphor of life being a roller-coaster and, thus, felt the need to be seat-belted in for the ride.

                “Are you sure he’s okay?” The boy turned his gaze from Zelos to the mystery man at his side. “He’s not exactly responsive…”

                The man beside Zelos relaxed every time the boy spoke and Zelos wondered what their relationship was. Judging by the tightness of both the mens’ outfits, he hypothesized that maybe they had first crossed paths while shopping at the same grotesque store.

                “I am _not_ okay,” Zelos finally spoke.

                He immediately regretted it. A voice like sandpaper and a throat like sand, as if his larynx had rotted from the inside out. How much of the poison had they made him retch onto the floor? That part of his memory was black and hazy; he couldn’t quite be sure of what had been done. He decided he hated it anyway, indiscriminately, and felt much better for it.

                The boy’s eyes snapped back to Zelos in a slight panic. Ah, the fear of mortality.

                “Do you want me to get the doctor—?”

                “What for, huh? Prolong my sad, little life? Tell me what you really want with me, kid, because absolutely nothing you can do is going to help me short of piercing me in the fucking heart.” He paused for effect, let the words seep so nobody got the wise idea of combating him. Then he continued, the husk in his voice now a useful tool for the dramatics he craved. “Are we clear? If we’re not, I’m more than happy to illustrate the preferred technique on _you_.”

                There was no doubt in Zelos’s mind that these people were there by order of the church or the king and that they were hanging out for a sight of the Chosen of Tethe’alla, not the unchosen son Zelos Wilder. That meant a lot of different things but, on the whole, it meant that they couldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t hurt him, and he could say whatever he wanted.

                The boy gaped, his expression reading something like shell-shocked. He didn’t speak, but the man under Zelos tensed something fierce.

                “Acting like you care about me. ‘Do you need a doctor?’ Don’t make me laugh. If you cared, you’d’ve let me die. Killed me in my bed. How long have you been standing around my bed, ya idle-brained brat? Huh?”

                His voice growled, animalistic, and it hurt so much to speak but the boy took it and Zelos couldn’t stop. Couldn’t pause for fear of leaking. Leaking tears, leaking humanity, leaking something. Poison. Poison. Spit it out.

                “How long have you been waiting so you can drag me up and throw me to the lions? Force me to fulfill my birth-right for people who hate me? For people who have done _nothing_ for me!” Don’t stop, not even for that crack in the words, not even for the hole opening under his chest. Morph into a cobra, spit the venom and scream. “You want me to shift and change for them? I’d sooner just be dead.”

                “You’re quite fond of the idea of dying, chosen one. If you truly believe this mission will kill you, you might as well die for others and have some amount of charitable substance added to your reputation. It perhaps could make up for the rancid life you felt compelled to live up until this point.”

                The man underneath him slid out from under Zelos as he spoke and Zelos toppled backwards onto the bed without his crutch, losing sight of the mortified boy for the intricate ceiling above him. Smart move, diplomatic move. The man knew better than to take this wretch seriously. He was just a shell. A harmless, snake skin. No poison there.

                Zelos turned his head as best he could to glare up at the man in purple, but his features were blocked off by the outfit and the style of the man himself, as though everything about him was made to spite Zelos. Purple’s hair hung over almost all of his face in spouts. More buckles—maybe the two were brothers—wrapped around Purple’s body, as if there was any chance in hell that suit was going to come off just short of being sliced off with a high-precision laser cutter. But, putting his outfit aside, and looking into the one eye he could see, Zelos knew that this man was not a rock. His emotions could be clawed out and exploited just like the boy’s had been.

                “I’d rather die by my own prerogative than to fight for people who never even thought of fighting for me.”

                “Fight for the rich, the second in command to the kingdom? I’m sure they didn’t think much of your woesome high privilege.”

                “That’s the problem.”

                “Say what you will,” the man wasn’t moved, “but nothing changes the fact that you are required, by title of the chosen, to fulfill this quest.”

                “Oh yeah.” Zelos laughed. “Restore the world of mana. Get everybody nice and happy and living off the fat of the land while I fly away to heaven—become an angel.” His chest hurt. Talking hurt so much. “I have always known what this called for. I don’t have to do anything—”

                “Kratos. Lloyd. Go wait outside.”

                Zelos had wondered how long Sheena could stomach his tirade. Purple turned and gazed at Sheena for what seemed like ages before he finally relented, nodded, and headed out of the room. Another pair of boots slurred in a drag of feet over carpet as the boy trailed after him.

                Sheena walked up slow and sat beside Zelos on the bed with great care. Her hand eased under him and she gently hoisted him upwards so he could see her face once more. His chest bumped and shuddered with the movement and they sat in the moment of his wheezing for a long while, her just looking while he sacrificed full gasps to hold back tears. She already thought so low of him, he didn’t need to water any more of her disappointment. There was no need to grow a garden with her pity.

                “W-what are you doing here, Sheena?” His voice broke.

                Sheena fiddled with the edge of her rose-colored sash quietly, turned her gaze to the wall and whispered, “You idiot.”

                “What?”

                “You’re an idiot. How could you…” Her eyes were wet. “How could you try to do what you did?”

                Shock curled his lips into a smile. “Not up for mourning just yet?”

                “You’re so selfish. You can make so many people happy, but you would rather throw it away for your pride. Just like your father.”

                Okay, that had hurt, he’d admit it. His father’s suicide was not something people talked about, at least not in front of him. He liked it that way. Zelos knew he’d always be associated with his father—they certainly looked enough alike to warrant a comparison or too—but he didn’t have to hear about it. Sheena didn’t seem to have many cards to play at the moment though if she was prodding at web-covered daddy issues.

                “I won’t die for people who hate me. I refuse.”

                “Then do it for me.” Sheena leaned over and grabbed his wrist, and, _wow_ , Zelos couldn’t remember the last time he touched a woman outside of flirting, let alone the last time a woman had initiated the contact.

                “Assuming I’d die for you?” Zelos turned his head away to the opposite side of the room.

                “I’m not assuming.” Confidence exuding from her voice in a way that was actually pretty insulting. Zelos had never thought of dying for anyone, let alone Sheena, and, while he might have done some reckless things on her behalf, it certainly had nothing to do with her personally. Just another means to an end.

                But she had instances to back it up where his reckless nature had won and beaten the odds and they’d been catapulted out of sticky situations by his pure lack of self-preservation. Things that could most definitely be categorized as self-sacrificing if one didn’t know better.

                She was still talking, still trying to get him to live the rest of his life so he could die for her. “I would do it for you.”

                He looked at her then, really looked. Ample breasts pushed up against her knees in that common show of good genes and terrible posture. Her hand clung to his hand still, a grip as tight as the pursed line of her lips. He almost thought he saw himself in those young, hurt eyes of hers, but then he remembered Sheena was not selfish, could never be selfish like he was, and that one thing separated them like leagues of oceans. There was nothing of him in her, not really.

                “Please, Zelos. People are dying because of this. You can fix it. Don’t you want to fix it?” The tears were starting up again. “I know you think you’re just dying for a bunch of faceless people, but you just can’t think like that. It’ll ruin you.”

                “So I should lie to myself.” This conversation was getting exhausting. Couldn’t he sleep again? (Amidst a chorus in the hallways crooning in tandem with the memory of his mother that haunted his nightmare? Dreaming about his worthlessness? Maybe not…)

                “I’m not asking that. I’m just asking you to see it differently.” Her words clipped with her rising temper. She was getting tired of the conversation too.

                “Same thing,” he murmured.

                Her hand tightened. He winced. “How can you say that? How can you sit here and do this to me—to everybody else? How can you justify this? This is—it’s—it’s—”

                “Selfish? That’s what I’ve heard.” He let out a soft laugh, wish it had more bite but didn’t wish it enough to really rile up the energy to make it sting. “Whatever you call me, I’ve heard it before. I’m not going on the journey. No name you think of will make me. I won’t go.”

                Sheena’s hand whipped away so fast that it could have made a spark had one of them been made of wood. But that burn didn’t hurt nearly as much as the slap to his cheek that rolled him completely onto his side. With a swift motion, she pushed herself up and out of the chair before storming out of the room. Emotional leverage hired by the church, that was all Sheena was. Just a pawn.

                The joke was on them. Just because Sheena was his only friend didn’t make her that good of a friend.

                Zelos was a lot of things. Cowardly, childish, shallow, and tainted to list only a few. But he was not stupid. A lot of verbal abuse could be taken, used, but the one lie he used that he could never believe was that he was less than intelligent. He knew how people worked and he watched them as they lied and laughed and he knew that those who opposed normality were labeled stupid only because people, by nature, could not accept differences in their herd. Some part of him saw the appeal. Maybe the stupid thing was not to blend in. There was really no intelligent reasoning behind the idea of being different if the flock is so heavily evolved. But, in the end, Zelos had yet to see an instance where an individual rose up and fought a collective weighed by traditions they didn’t understand in which the individual had been the idiotic one in the equation.

                But that individual always lost.

                The door opened again, swift. It might have slammed up against the wall if it hadn’t been for Kratos’s hand still tightly clenching the doorknob. A quick jerk sent the door shutting promptly behind him. Maybe he could relay the message to the church that heart-to-hearts were far less effective in swaying opinions when they came from abhorrently dressed strangers.

                “You again,” Zelos groaned.

                “I didn’t have much confidence that Sheena could change your mind. You are very stubborn.” Kratos took a seat where Sheena had been sitting, his posture rigid like he had a stick shoved straight up his ass that stretched to the base of his cerebral cortex. “We have to try though. Some people have a change of heart.”

                Zelos wanted to roll his eyes but decided to settle on a heavy-lidded glare.

                “If you do not undergo this journey, we will kill your sister.”

                It would be a lie to say Zelos didn’t appreciate the lack of bullshitting dialogue that typically led up to that level of threat. Although it definitely did prickle like a hit from a cactus to know that Kratos could say it with such conviction and, fuck him and his stupid hair and his ugly fucking outfit, arrogance.

                “If you so much as look at Seles, I will rip your heart out.” Adrenaline was a hell of a conversation helper.

                “You are weak now. Can you confidently assure your sister’s safety while you sit here and rot with your self-afflicted wounds?” Kratos lifted himself up from the chair as if to say the conversation was coming to a close. Funny, since Zelos still had a hell of a lot to tell this prime grade piece of horse’s ass.

                “Don’t get up like we’re done talking,” Zelos snarled.

                “I know your answer.”

                His voice was still so even. Zelos wanted nothing more to punch him in his stupid face.

                But… it was either him or Seles. He was going to die anyway, but she didn’t have to, right? … Right?

                Damn the predictability. He should have known they’d use her against him. They always did.

                “If I agree and I hear of anything happening to her,” he began to warn, but Kratos only lifted his hand and said, “Agreeing to the journey guarantees her safety.”

                “Sebastian too,” Zelos suddenly remembered. “If I do this, Sebastian gets to live his life, carefree. You give him money. A house. A fun, easy life.”

                “Are you in the position to be negotiating with me?” There was something like amusement in Kratos’s voice. Maybe even pride.

                “Agree or I don’t do it.” A clear lie. If any situation called for Sebastian versus Seles, Zelos would pick Seles every single time.

                “A sick sister and an old man for company,” Kratos mused, “Odd, given your reputation.”

                Zelos sunk into the bed and shut his eyes. “I’m an odd guy.”

                “Indeed.” A shuffle as Kratos turned to leave the room. “I will see to your requests, chosen one. Recover swiftly and then we will go on the journey to regenerate the world.”

                When Kratos was gone, Zelos sunk into the covers, grabbed his pillow, and attempted to bury himself deep into the fabric until his lungs felt ready to burst from suffocation. He fell asleep before he could die.

                Typical.

 


	2. Chapter 2

            It should have taken much longer than a few weeks before he could even get out of bed to take a piss, let alone go on some justice-seeking, self-sacrificing adventure. Yet, much to Zelos's dismay, on the edge of the second week of his recovery his pain had declined to the point of being declared "apt and able to save the world" thanks to Meltokio's qualified medical professionals and his stupid, enhanced chosen body.

            The city just loooved that. Really though, the nobles soaked it all up like aristocratic sponges while the peasants smiled wide and dirty mouthed. They applauded for him, standing side by side regardless of their neighbor's class. They cheered partly because this was the beginning of their chance to eat fresh and succulent fruit, fat from mana, while also escaping the rule of those less-than-sweet Desians who were popping up everywhere, although they weren't within the capital as of yet.

            The other half of the glee was attributed to the fact that Zelos was never—and repeat that so it sinks right into your bones and marinates your skin so that even the thought of sweating or breathing would send the idea seeping out of every single one of your pores— _never_ coming home. Evidently there was going to be a festival that night in the city; all classes welcome—everything free. Zelos wondered if he could stop any other social enigmas just by being himself. Perhaps world peace could be achieved only by putting himself in the middle of a mobbing circle and allowing them to slit his throat. Finally, true harmony.

            He gagged at the thought.

            In any other situation, Sheena would have been his safe haven, but now she ignored him, blaming him for his attempted suicide. Logically, it was his fault and good on her for caring enough to keep up her grudge, but he was a bit starved for companionship and he sure as hell wasn't going to buddy up with Kratos and Lloyd.

            How _beyond_ frustrating. Really, life was just too much sometimes.

            He almost regretted trying to kill himself. For a lot of reasons it turned out.

            Reason number one: He was barely out of sight of the Meltokio horizon and he was on the verge of keeling over from exhaustion.

            Reason number two: Sebastian was now in a Meltokio prison cell, his freedom only guaranteed after Zelos had succeeded.

            (The only way for Sebastian to escape life in prison for helping Zelos try to kill himself was for Zelos to go and get killed. Tethe'alla never failed in displaying A+ logic in all areas of life it appeared.)

            Reason number three, this one being the most annoying of all the reasoning listed and not listed…

            Lloyd.

            The kid was dumb, and Zelos wasn't saying that for the sake of being belligerent. No, sir. The kid was about as smart as the dirt they were walking on. Not only that, but he was young and naïve and wowy gee why in the heavens would anybody ever want to _die_?

            _Stop it, Lloyd_ , Zelos wanted to scream.

            Every time Zelos slowed down or sped up or ate or breathed or blinked or did anything, Lloyd was there, peering and frowning and asking if he was okay.

            Stop! Stop!

            Anybody with eyes could see the obvious fact that Zelos was not okay. He was being blackmailed into sacrificing his life for everybody on the planet, which sucked hard enough just by that description alone. It had never needed any embellishing to get a bit of sympathy with, but now Zelos had an all new reason to be pissed. He was sacrificing his life for everybody, yes, but he was also dying for Lloyd. The stupid wide-eyed brat was the last person on the planet he wanted to die for. Hell, if Zelos had to do anything for him, he did the exact opposite. That went for everything. Lloyd wanted rice for dinner? Well then, they would be eating soup by request of Zelos who typically got to decide what they ate simply as a courtesy from Kratos and Sheena. It was the least they could do if they were driving Zelos straight for the slaughter-house.

            Zelos initially could not believe how much the taunting pissed off Kratos. 

            They were brothers they claimed when Zelos had finally been given proper introductions to the two. Zelos had decided that the reason Kratos's panties always seemed to be in a bunch was because of his spandex suit, but they got even more bunched up when Zelos took his frustrations out on the boy, ten years Kratos's junior. Kratos would drag Lloyd away or send Zelos a death glare when the redhead's taunting flared. Sometimes Zelos glared right back. Sometimes he laughed. Sometimes, when Zelos felt like being especially difficult, he would just decide that they were done walking for the day and he would plop right on down on the ground, declaring this the new camping spot.

            Sheena never appreciated that, and Kratos shared her distaste. He openly displayed it with a jaw clamped shut and a body held taunt. He would cross his arms, making noise like a dragon exhaling from its nostrils, and look away from Zelos as though the sight of him was disgusting. Lloyd, however, would look over his shoulder, since he always led the group with endless energy, and those broad shoulders would slump and he would frown as though to wonder why Zelos too wasn’t skipping to their destination.

            Well, yeah, when the slaughter-house means fresh meat for you it sounds like a great place to visit. Less so when you’re the slab of meat.

            Today, as they reached the third hour of walking, Zelos decided this was bullshit. Typical of the usual epiphany that led to an impromptu camp set-up. He brushed his hands along the back of his duster to pull the fabric tight and dropped like a rock, letting his feet swing out as though he was partaking in a street dance that ended just as soon as it had begun. "You've gotta be kidding," Sheena snarled as soon as she heard the grunt and thump from the chosen. Kratos let out a growl. Lloyd stopped and turned. All as per usual.

            Lloyd blinked like some naïve deer just begging to get slaughtered and put in between two slices of bread. Or in a stew, maybe. "Are we going too fast?"

            "Yeah." Zelos reckoned. In reality, they'd been going a little slow, but he'd never complain about a sluggish pace.

            "I guess we can rest then.” Lloyd doubled back to the others and set his pack on the ground. “I mean, it's probably for the best to get bearings now as opposed to later when we get to the temple.”

            "Are we really that close?" Sheena asked.

            "Yes," Kratos, the bastard, replied. "We are about three hour's journey away from the first seal."

            Zelos lowered his eyes to the dirt, glad he had taken a seat when he had. Falling to his knees was a little dramatic, and he had a feeling that he wouldn't have been able to control the weak-kneed reaction that the words immediately gave him. He clenched a fist around the pink fabric of his vest and bit his lip.

            "After you release the first seal, we will know where to go from there," Kratos had the gall to add.

            "Well, that's good. We wouldn't want to waste any time going through scenic paths." Zelos opened his pack to take out a sandwich, which had gotten maimed in the last fight and morphed into an unappetizing mound of ingredients.

            "That one's all gross. Here, take one of mine." Lloyd handed over a well-assembled sandwich that had been in Kratos's pack. Zelos took the sandwich, shot the teenager a look of, 'I still don't like you', and ate.

            "What happens at the first seal?" Sheena eased into a sitting position across from Zelos. The brothers followed her lead and also took seats in the dirt.

            The first seal was probably going to be something like the ceremony at the church. The morning of the day Zelos had tried to kill himself, the priests took him into the depths of the church. He’d been instructed that all it would require was to shut his eyes and pray and be chosen-like. The playboy did not do holy well. Rumor was that his grandmother (the chosen before his father) hadn't been too hot at it either, although his father had been very skilled at appearing to be somewhat chosen-like. Leave it to Zelos to inherit all the less-than helpful traits from his lousy gene-pool.

            The Day of Prophecy had been like somebody throwing a book filled with all his flaws straight at Zelos's face, reminding him just how unacceptable everything about him was in relation to his title. Open the book and it would read out facts in bullet-pointed certainty:

• speaks with too much slang

• stole communion wine as a child

• curses all the time

• promiscuous hobbies

• steals communion wine as an adult

            The ceremony began when Zelos recited prayers in angelic. His hands bunched awkwardly at his chest, migrating between being steeple or clasped as he realized just how little he knew about prayer. His shoulders hunched with every progression. By the time the beautiful angel appeared, blonde, blue-eyed, with great white wings that stretched out and flapped in a slow cadence with her words, he was all but had created a hump in his back from insecurity.

            She communicated with conviction, something Zelos had learned to dislike throughout his life. Staying above him in the air, forcing him to crane his neck up to catch full sight of her, she smiled down at him and said, "I am Gabriela. I am an angel of judgment. I am here to guide Zelos, son of the mana lineage, on his journey to heaven as the sixteenth Chosen."

            Journey to heaven. The first time he really understood the implications of being the chosen.

            "The time has come to awaken the Goddess Martel," Gabriella declared, her elevation dropping so she could place her petite feet on the ground. Zelos's eyes followed her as she continued, "who sleeps at the center of the world." Reaching out, Gabriella put her hand to the center of Zelos's bare chest. His breath shorted out from the sensation of cold, inhuman flesh. He couldn’t recall angels being so… mechanical.

            (The word battles in his brain against maternal. Not all mothers are mechanic. Only his.)

            Her skin illuminated with a holy radiation that oozed out from her and into the core of his chest, nestling until it had settled to make a place inside of him. The cruxis crystal, which had been inside of Zelos's pocket, had somehow made its way up into the grasp of the angel. A short pinch squeezed the nerves all over his collar-bone area, as though somebody had dug a foundation onto the fabric of his epidermal cells. Later, he would see the intricate works of his Cruxis Crystal, surrounded by a crest of golden metal, embedded in his chest, when he caught sight of himself in the mirror of the church.

            A design befitting the trail of a snake marked the metal twists of the crest. The discrepant pattern remained windingly consistent until it reached his neck. There it wrapped around and rested at the base of his muscular jugular like the collar of a beast. The tag of his collar was the red crystal itself, glowing ever-so-slightly no matter the light.

            Gabriela, after bestowing this permanent branding of Chosen lineage onto him, looked into his eyes. As though there were not almost three dozen other people in the room and it was only them. He almost believed the lie.

            "From this moment, you, Zelos, are the Chosen of Regeneration. We of Cruxis bless this event, and hereby bestow the Tower of Salvation upon Tethe'alla." The ground quaked. Zelos stumbled backwards, grabbing at the arm of a priest to look around in vain, but the tower wouldn't be visible until they could got out of this hole, a windowless chapel in the heart of the city.

            When Zelos finally managed to turn back at Gabriela she continued speaking in her soft, angelic, maternal—lecturing tone. It read like scripted basics in a play called _Teach the Idiot Chosen Why He's Here._ Zelos thought it might be a real toe-tapper musical had it really existed.

            "Zelos, the Chosen of Regeneration. Unlock the seals that guard the Tower of Salvation and climb its stairs to heaven in distant lands.”

            "I can think of something a lot closer that I would rather climb.”

            He couldn't figure out what was more rewarding, the gasps from the priests or the look of distaste on Gabriela's pure features. She regained composure within nanoseconds and, although she still seemed irritated, she continued with her script. "We of Cruxis shall grant you the power of the angels with each seal you unlock. Once you are reborn as an angel, this eroded world shall be regenerated."

            It took a sweet second before Zelos understood she was awaiting a response. Zelos, trying to think of one, wasn't really able to find one that fit the situation. He wasn't about to thank her. He decided on, "Mmmkay."

            "You will first head north, to the seal of the Earth. Offer your prayers in that distant land.”

            "Alright," Zelos replied, the fingers of his right hand now tracing along the metal-work of his crystal's crest. Cold. He suppressed a shudder.

            Gabriela rose once more, only to disappear right before she would have made contact with the ceiling.

            An interesting show, Zelos could say objectively. He really hadn't figured that he'd actually be going to the temple to release the first seal, considering death was supposed to be a sure-fire way to avoid things rotting on a to-do list. However, he was stuck with it now along with the three body-guards who traveled alongside him.

            Kratos's voice snapped him out of his musing.

            "The first seal will be the introductory step in the chosen’s journey to become an angel."

            "How many seals are there again? Because I feel like this process might be kinda long," Lloyd added with a teasing smile to the redhead. The fact that the words weren’t meant to hurt only made them sting more.

            Zelos just rolled his eyes. "So funny." Sheena seemed to agree with his statement because she was giggling like a love-sick school-girl at Lloyd's jab.

            Gross.

            "Well, we're almost there," said Sheena, still smiling. "I'm kind of excited. The seal is guarded by a real angel!”

            Zelos’s fingers dug into the dirt unenthusiastically. "Coooooool.”

            "I wonder if it's an angel I know," Lloyd oddly remarked. After receiving confused looks from Sheena and Zelos, he hurriedly added, "You know, from the stories of the church. Maybe it's one of the old chosens!"

            "That would be cool," Sheena agreed. She turned her head to look at Zelos. "Maybe you can ask for some pointers on how to act like a chosen from them.”

            "I don't see why people blame me!” He threw his arms out. “It's not as if there's a manual I can read to catch up on Chosen duties.”

            "I think it's about the same as acting like a priest or a man of the goddess, Zelos," Sheena responded. “Or just a decent person,” she added, sidelong.

            "How fair is that though? I mean, c'mon, Sheena! They get to choose that.” He tried to keep his voice light. Avoid the very real truth to what he was saying. “Nobody is born into working for the church, at least not to the extent that a chosen is. You would think, if they're gonna get so damn huffy over me not being able to recite all of the chosen-y things, that they would at least get me a book to read. Or maybe enroll me in some crash course!” He clapped his hands together. “Now there's an idea!"

            "The church should not have to waste time informing you of the correct way to behave in society solely because you were born without the ability to appropriately respond to those around you. It is not their responsibility to teach you your birthright," Kratos replied, not fooled for a moment by Zelos’s light tone or smile.

            "Then whose is it?" Zelos demanded.

            "Typically, Chosens are taught how to behave by their predecessor. In your case, your father is the one you should be cursing. Not the church."

            At the word "father", Lloyd's eyes flickered over to Kratos. Two brother mercenaries traveling about and working for the church? Zelos thought nothing of the look. He had always figured that Lloyd and Kratos's parents were out of the picture anyway. The comment had hit some nerve in Lloyd, to be sure, but it had hit twenty nerves in Zelos.

            "My father can't do much six-feet buried in the Earth, but I'll let him know after this whole thing is through that you disapproved of his parenting techniques. It'll be a good way of pushing home the fact that I didn't care much for his methods either."

            Kratos only gave a hum of acknowledgment.

            "Are you finished resting?" Sheena asked Zelos in a quick change of subject.

            "I guess." Zelos stood up and flashed a smile in Sheena's direction. "If you want me to have energy for a late-night, camp-site wrestling session though then I might need to rest a little longer."

            "Idiot.” Sheena quickened her pace so that she led the group. Meaning Kratos would now alternatively flank Zelos's sides as they walked so as to keep an eye on all angles. It also meant that Lloyd would be walking the closest to Zelos, slightly behind him.

            Fantastic.

            It wasn't so bad at first. Lloyd had noticed Zelos's bad mood and, having learned by way of all the bad moods before this one like a conditioned dog, now kept quiet so as to not fan the fire. At first only consisted of about ten minutes. Then Lloyd started talking.

            "I know you two don't really get along, but he means well," the boy started out by saying.

            "How could he possibly mean well?" Zelos laughed. "He's leading me to my execution."

            "Oh! That reminds me. I always wanted to ask you about that," Lloyd said suddenly, causing Zelos to look over his shoulder at him with a dead-panned expression. "You keep saying you're going to die. You're not though. You're going to become an angel.”

            "You are really thick, kid.” Zelos sighed and slowly asked, "What is an angel?"

            "Well..." Lloyd gave Zelos a look, as though expecting a trick-question. Then again, all questions were probably trick-questions to this kid. "They're... They're soldiers for the Goddess Martel."

            Good job. Gold star. Alright.

            Lloyd continued staring, glassy eyed with confusion.

            He still didn’t get it.

            Zelos let out another sigh. "And how does one become an angel, aside from being the Chosen?"

            "Uhm... They go to heaven."

            "How exactly do you get to heaven?"

            "You die—oh."

            Lloyd quickly scowled. "That's not fair though. If it was as easy as that, you wouldn't have to release the seals, you would just die. The whole journey is so you can be a living angel—have the power of those who had to die to achieve it except you don't have to die!"

            Interesting way to look at it. Too bad it was bullshit.

            "Yeah, well, you ever think that, living or dead, that I don't want to be an angel?"

            "I have thought of that. I thought of that after I heard about what you did," Lloyd responded.

            Zelos felt a smile twisting the corners of his mouth upward. "What I _did_. Why can't you say it? Your brother seems to have no problem telling me all about my mistakes, so you can take a page out of his book if you'd like."

            "Because you did it and it's in the past. You didn't succeed, thankfully, so it doesn't matter," Lloyd responded. "Calling it by name just... It's not important, Zelos."

            "Oh please," Zelos jeered, chuckles making his words trail off.

            "Why are you laughing at me?!"

            "Because you're an idiot.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Of course it matters that I tried to kill myself. You ever think that maybe that frame of mind might bleed into another frame of mind? Y'know, the kind that wouldn't think twice about deserting this journey to go do my own thing elsewhere?"

            "You can't do that anymore, not unless you wore a coat tied up to your neck to cover up that Cruxis Crystal, and you know it," Lloyd retorted in a surprising show of intelligence. "Besides, if you thought that would have worked, you would have tried it first instead of doing what you did."

            "Who says I didn't try it?"

            Lloyd grew silent and he watched Zelos for some way to gauge those words. Finally, he bit the bait. "So what happened when you tried?"

            "The cavalry tracked me down and dragged me back home, that's what happened, you backwards-brained, walking tamale. It's the same thing they did when I tried to off myself, so I really don't know why I thought I'd be able to control any aspect of my life."

            "... You can control your life."

            "Y'know, if I knew how funny you were when we first met, I would have suggested you take to stand-up in Altamira as opposed to this messy mercenary business."

            "Stop being a pain in the ass and listen to me for a second. Stop turning everything into a joke and just listen."

            "Well, you've got my attention." Zelos lifted his right arm, flipping a limp-wristed hand up and away in lazy encouragement.

            "You do control your life, Zelos. You control so many other people's lives too, but your's? You control that one the most. If you were nicer to people, maybe you'd understand that the only way to feel control is to gain respect." Lloyd looked away from Zelos over to the sky. "Nobody respects you though, because you're an asshole."

            "I liked that end part, but I'm not so sold on the rest of your spiel."

            "Stuff like that!" Lloyd exclaimed. "You make your life so difficult on purpose with shit like that!" The sound of a curse-word from Lloyd's lips caused Kratos to send him a look of distaste and Lloyd waved at him in apology. Kratos, who understood that being around Zelos could greatly damage the filter of even a priests’ vocabulary, let it slide.

            Zelos asked, "So what do you suggest I do, wise one?"

            "I'm not suggesting anything except maybe you start being a bit nicer.”

            "Hey, I try, but you guys aren't interested." Zelos shrugged.

            "Well, you're wrong," Lloyd informed him. "We are interested."

            Conversation flowed on and off like that for a while. Sometimes, by the end of the talks, Zelos almost convinced himself that Lloyd wasn't so bad. Then Lloyd would start spewing some religious zeal about how the church was really just trying to help and he ended up hating him all over again.

            By the time they reached the temple that held the first seal, Zelos was in need of some new company. He attached himself to Sheena, much to her distaste. The two watched as Kratos inspected the area, tracking a path long-worn by many feet over thousands of years. He paced along, his eyes searching the walls while Zelos reached out and began to fiddle with the ribbon around Sheena's waist, bored. Sheena gave him a look of annoyance, but she let him play with the cloth despite it.

            Lloyd scrutinized the area, five paces behind Kratos and wide-eyed as he took in the sight of the temple, as though he'd never before seen a ruin. It barely registered to Zelos just how odd that was until much later. Considering how well traveled the brothers had claimed to be and how many ruins coated the lands from the Kharlan era, even if they'd never been inside of one of the ancient structures, surely Lloyd had seen one before.

            "Chosen One, come here," Kratos ordered.

            Zelos strutted over. "You finally ready to apologize?"

            Kratos pointed down to a stone pillar in front of them. Zelos, out of curiosity mostly, approached the pillar, his eyes scanning the Angelic language inscribed in the stone that, in a nutshell, implied only Zelos (the Chosen) held the key to this door. There was a place that would perfectly fit a palm, so Zelos problem-solved. He put his hand to the stone and the earth beneath their feet quaked. The door before them opened.

            "Whoah."

            "Wow!"

            "Hng."

            Zelos's three companions ooh'd, awe'd, and grunted while the chosen smiled brightly, not feeling very impressed but willing to play a part for their games. "Hold your applause until the finale. I must insist! You'll all be worn out if you congratulate me on all my wondrous abilities!”

            Really, though, he had opened a door. On one hand, whoop-de-doo. On the other, Zelos did have to acknowledge that there was a very large chance that his lack of impression had to do mostly with the fact that this door led to a seal which would lead to his consequential angelification. That just didn't seem really fun to him, but a good actor always had to do things he disagreed with.

            It was dim inside. Expected given the fact that the temple was ancient and it wasn't as if the ancient people had really had an opportunity to find themselves a good electrician. Dusty as well, which was just as understandable. Housekeepers couldn't very well be afforded to keep on staff in a dead temple.

            "I've always wondered who built the temples," Sheena said softly as she walked inside, a bit antsy now for a reason Zelos just chopped up to nerves.

            "Easy. Temple builders." Sheena smacked him for his sarcasm.

            "The temples were built long before even the Kharlan War," Kratos uniformly said. The two young adults looked at him while Lloyd still stared at the scenery with his doe eyes. "There is no way to be sure who constructed them, but it is likely that the very first inhabitants of our planet, seeing the large collections of mana here, built them to worship entities."

            "Entities huh? Like, what, gods?" Zelos asked.

            "Summon spirits," Sheena answered, although he hadn't been asking her.

            "Oh yeah," Zelos waved a hand in the air—he really couldn't believe he had forgotten about the Summon Spirits. They had been dormant for a while though—since his mid-teens when the world had fallen into ruin. He turned to Sheena and cocked his head to the left by a few degrees. "Didn't you used to have one as a pet or something? Y'know, that dog thing you had with you all the time."

            "Corrine was not a pet, he was my friend," Sheena snapped at him, but the anger flipped into angst. "He... He died."

            "Shame," commented Zelos. No need to encourage her.

            "When the world began declining?" Kratos asked.

            "Yeah... Before, the world had a lot of Mana to spare, we could afford to create a summon spirit out of nothing," Sheena mumbled. "When the land began to die... Well..."

            "He died too," Lloyd finished for her, soft, his gaze finally directed over his shoulder at the ninja.

            "Yes," Sheena said.

            "Well, hey, that's why we're here, right?" Zelos piped, suddenly putting on a good face for Sheena.

            "What?" scowled Sheena.

            "We're here to open a seal—bring the world back to its former glory!" He twisted about on his heel so he was right in front of Sheena, his nose almost touching her's. He broke into a large grin and laughed, "We can avenge your pal for ya!"

            "I thought you were the number one person against this journey," Lloyd said, suddenly confused.

            "I can't stand to see my darling Sheena frown!" Zelos exclaimed. "If opening the seals opens up her mouth so I can see that beautiful smile—well, it'll be at least a little consolation!" He leaned forward and kissed her lips, because, hey, he might as well just go for the gold.   Sheena's breath cut off in embarrassment and she shoved him away into the ground, the palm of her hand making contact with his face while her own cheeks flushed bright red.

            Kratos hmphed and shook his head. "While I appreciate the lifting of your mood, let us continue."

            So they did. The four walked in a triangular formation. Sheena and Lloyd behind Zelos while Kratos lead directly in front of him. The three working as body-guarding points while Zelos stayed within the invisible walls of their protection.

            As they walked, their boots clipped along in uneven paces against the stone floor of the temple. Lloyd's feet were the loudest and he stomped along like the physical powerhouse that he was, his boots dragging against gravel and dirt and making a harsh noise as he did so, like rough sandpaper being repeatedly acquainted with even rougher sandpaper. Kratos, although he didn't galumph about like his brother, was the second loudest. His boots hit the ground heavy from the weight of his body accompanied with the weight from his packs and equipment. Zelos was third and he probably would have been quietest if it hadn't been for Sheena, who danced across the floor in silence as though gravity had no effect on her nimble feet.

            They walked, crossing paths with a few forgettable beasts that Lloyd made quick work of, sometimes taking help from his brother and sometimes Sheena. Zelos sat back, occasionally casting a spell or two. He didn't see much of a point though. It wasn't as if he could offer anything up to the fight that Kratos couldn't easily mimic (although, Zelos found it worth noting that Kratos was positively hulking in his movements. If he were at a party, Zelos would have bet his entire estate that Kratos could not dance).

            Angelic writing inscribed deep within the stony corridor walls, and, as they proceeded further into the depths of the temple, the words became harder to make sense of. Sure, he was well-versed in the Angelic language—it was Chosen 101 after all—but he wasn't so fluent in phrasing. He could deal with a simple, "Place your hand on top of the pillar," order in Angelic. Where he began to get lost in translation was when the Angelic words started getting poetic.

            Zelos had never been a fan of poetry. He had tried to get into it (back when he considered himself to hold the potential of becoming an intellectual) and had found himself simply sullen with it all. How hard was it to just say that the flower was soft? That the sky was blue? That the world was shit? The fact that everything had to be romanticized only accentuated the fact that poetry couldn't sell itself as anything except for the scattered thoughts of some desperate writer, and it most certainly could never be written as fact. That wasn't to say that Zelos hated all of the arts. On the contrary, he was a highly skilled pianist (back when people cared about music in Tethe'alla, the aristocracy had even ventured to say his musical abilities made him a prodigy) and painter. If you spent your childhood within the walls of a mansion, you'd probably pick up a few hobbies too though.

            "Chosen One," Kratos's voice broke through Zelos's thoughts.

            They stood before a stone door with a pillar that matched the one outside of the temple. He placed his hand on the pillar and the door opened. Expected.

            "This is so cool." Lloyd bounded ahead of the group over to the large altar, a gazebo of stone decorated in the language of the dead. Kratos followed after his brother, flanking so he was on the opposite side in a perfectly mirrored position.

            "Hey.” Zelos tore his eyes away from the altar to look at Sheena, her expression suddenly troubled. "You... You ready to do whatever it is you do?" she finally asked.

            "Yeah. Yeah, sure." Zelos rolled back his shoulders so the bones clicked and popped. He jumped up and down, as though preparing to run a marathon. He only had the energy to do a few bounces before the remaining pain from his suicide attempt started to tug at the tendons in his legs in protest.

            He strode up to the altar, staring into it as though there might be an instruction manual for this whole chosen thing poking out of the stone flooring. To his disappointment, there was no such manual, but the altar glowed and reacted all the same, turning red and angry in its center. Zelos quickly took a few steps back and looked back at the others in dismay.

            "Uh, guys?!"

            "Be on your guard!" Kratos already at work unsheathing his sword.

            "Yeah, no shit! Why’s it doing that?!" Zelos yelled back, turning his body completely to look over at the mercenary.

            "You idiot! Get out of the—ah!" Sheena fell backwards and onto her second pair of assets.

            In other circumstances, Zelos would have done the gentlemanly thing and laughed at her, but he felt it would be a bit hypocritical since the same quaking had sent him backwards as well. Kratos and Lloyd were the only two on their feet and even they were unsteady.

            An immense radiation burst into the room, bearing down hot right above the top of Zelos's scalp like the breeze straight from a volcano. His bad health made work of his lungs, his wheezing breath only cutting off when a panting, animalistic pace filled the air. After scrounging up some courage, Zelos lifted his head up and met face to face with a large beast, constructed out of the earth itself.

            Its body crumbled as it breathed, showing tender skin inside of the deep stone crevices of its behemoth bear-like form. Taking in a deep intake of air, the monster reared back onto its hind-legs, at the ready to strike with large bouldered talons. Zelos froze in place at the very sight.

            "Zelos!" Sheena cried. "Zelos, move!"

            Just as the beast pushed forward to strike—just as Zelos lowered his head in quick resignation for the sweet release of death—metal hit rock in front of him in a scream of collision. The slurring balk of heavy, slamming, footsteps as Lloyd stomped forward until the only thing between Zelos and the monster was his blade.

            Kratos darted around the back of the beast, pulling the full attention off of Lloyd so that Zelos had time to scramble up on his feet, move away from the altar, and pull out his sword. He thought he'd just have to pray or whatever. He didn't know that he had to fight off monsters at the altar as well. Wasn't it good enough for that stupid Martel that he was even bothering to put in the frequent-traveler's miles to get to the damn temple in the first place? Apparently not.

            "Zelos!" Sheena yelled, having already gone into the fray herself.

            "Right. Right."

            Zelos advanced, his dagger drawn and his shield up and at the ready.

            He stormed up to the beast, dagger lifting with adrenaline, and Zelos joined the battle cries of the others. He made enough of a note of the other three fighters just as to insure he wouldn't wound any of them in the battle. Mana surrounded and enveloped his body like a blanket of pure power, and it pushed his blade deep past the stone armor and into the belly of the bellowing monster.

            Muscles led by magic jerked Zelos's arm back, blade still tightly grasped at the handle, as blood squirted out onto his face. It dripped into the open orifice that gaped and panted as Zelos fought, coating his teeth and tongue with crimson. The world defined itself by the gustatory overhaul of iron and salt. His stomach wretched and the floor underneath him shook, but nobody else seemed affected by it. Blinking as sweat dripped into his eyes, despite his headband, he realized that he was not strong enough to be of real help from this point on. Not without really screwing himself up.

            His vision constricted and he stumbled backwards, only stopping to plant himself when he was a safe distance away from writhing monster in the dirt. Sheena used the foot of the rocky mammoth to propel backwards, flipping to keep up her momentum in the air so she could find her landing in a safe slide at Zelos's side.

            Energy still ignited within the beast's being, though, and it tried to get back up, though each attempt was made in vain. Lloyd and Kratos flanked along the sides of the monster and proceeded to keep it down on its stomach. Kratos worked on piercing the chest where the rock build up was the thickest. The air screeched with the sound of metal against stone and Zelos winced as his eardrums hummed off-beat in his head.

            Meanwhile, the younger Aurion pieced one sword into the opening Zelos had created and Sheena had widened. The other sword remained sheathed while the offensive blade made a home inside the guts of the beast. Lloyd wrapped his arms around the handle of his weapon, the leather binding snugging and bunching tightly against his underarms. He kicked his feet out before tucking them back up until in the fetal position and wrapped with his gust coiled around the weapon embedded in the shrieking monster. Then he kicked his legs out again, followed back another quick tuck. Within moments, Lloyd had become a bright red pendulum, hanging off the side of the beast as each swing ticked down the moments left in the monster's life.

            Kratos still toiled on getting to the heart while Lloyd continued swinging, moving the blade into and across organs so they sliced open and agonized the monster. Lloyd finally swung all the way out from the blade, twisting his body in the air so he made it up to the top of the monster's 20 feet tall body. His boots clanked against the stone and the beast squirmed in protest.

            "Do not waste time! If you see an opening, take it!" Kratos bellowed from the ground level.

            "If you're going to insist!" Lloyd laughed. It was a cheerful, albeit cocky laugh that seemed out of place in the battle. Lloyd took the sword he used to swing out from the beast's side and channeled his mana deep within himself. Sheena grabbed Zelos's arm to drag him away, her pace hurried and her eyes darting about to constantly correct for damaged paths. Zelos followed dutifully, but confused.

            "Hey, wait, they might need help—"

            He turned back to the scene just in time to see Kratos duck out from the fight as well. Lloyd lifted both of his swords, glowing yellow in the dim cavern of a temple. With a thunderous howl, the powerhouse of a boy brought down both swords into the skull of the monster. It screamed and fell completely to the ground, no power left in its soul to do anything else. As it fell, all the energy that overflowed from the assault spilled out from the monster’s corpse onto the floor in a wave of destruction. The beast disintegrated into the dirt, and now Lloyd stood in the open space, sheathing his weapons as the dust covered the sheen of his red boots.

            Well, Zelos could understand why Sheena, Kratos, and himself had been encouraged to leave the immediate fight zone. Getting hit by that mana overflow could have killed any of them if they hadn't been expecting it, which Zelos hadn't been.

            Sheena's hand still rested on his bicep, and Zelos smiled, although her gaze was locked on Lloyd hungrily. "I'm still here," he said in a taunting voice. "No need to touch me to make sure. Although, if you'd like, I could pinch you in some extra places so you know I'm— _ow_!"

            She slapped him quick. "Idiot.” But when she really looked back at him, her face softened. How weak he must’ve looked to her. How pathetic to almost pass out in a fight that had used very little of his help. "... Zelos..." She seemed ready to continue with sentiment, but the young ninja stopped short, her attention settled behind him now.

            A deep emerald glowing inside the altar rang out with Gabriela’s voice.

            "You, the Chosen of Regeneration. Offer your prayers at the altar."

            Zelos strolled away from Sheena, making sure to stay steady as he put one foot in front of the other. He reached the altar and felt six eyes on him, watching and waiting for him to offer the prayers at the altar. His face flushed and hoped that the group would just assume it had been the fight which had worn him down as opposed to embarrassment of being... _holy_.

            He cleared his throat. "Oh Goddess Martel," he began, "great protector and nurturer of the earth... Grant me strength."

            The top of the altar opened like a womb and shined, celestial, as Gabriela emerged from the holy light. Behind him, Zelos could hear Lloyd say, "Oh, I don't know that one," and then Kratos chuckled.

            "The guardian of the seal has fallen, and the first seal has been released," Gabriela announced. "Gnome will awaken very soon." A small blip of a gasp from Sheena at the mention of summon spirits. "In the name of Cruxis, I shall grant you the power of the angels."

            Before Zelos replies, he finds himself in a new world. Just a split second blink is long enough for Gabriela to drag him into a negative white space where he is up and floating in the air. He looks around and sees no one except Gabriela who is in front of him. Her eyes lock on his and suddenly he is shaking because of all the white and the red of his hair in his peripheral vision and she just—she looks so much like _her_.

            Gabriela presses her hands to the base of his crystal's golden crest and Zelos's breath stops. There is a part of himself that he never knew existed writhing in pain within his body. He looks up at Gabriela and whispers, "Stop."

            She does no such thing. She reaches deep into the crystal now, her hand disappearing in his chest, then her wrist, then her entire arm, and she grabs a hold of that writhing, raw piece of humanity and she steals a part of it, ripping it out of his body and retreating her hand back.

            When Zelos reopened his eyes, he did not remember the white space or the wounded part inside him. He felt an appendage extend out behind him that wasn't there before, noted to himself that these must be his wings. They lifted him up and he raised his head to consider Gabriela, suddenly feeling more apt to give her a part of him.

            "The angel transformation will not be without pain," she said. "Yet, it is but for one night. Be strong and endure, Chosen One."

            "I will," Zelos responded, and truly felt that he would.

            "The next seal lies far to the south, at the bottom of this continent. Offer your prayers at that altar," she ordered.

            "Alright."

            Just as she had done the morning of the oracle, she floated to the ceiling, disappearing just when she should have collided with matter. Her voice lingered, "I shall await you at the next seal, the Chosen of Regeneration, Zelos."

            Zelos floated down finally to the floor.

            "Wow, they're so... Orange," Lloyd said, breaking any semblance of intellectual offerings.

            "Wow," Sheena seemed to agree with him though.

            Zelos turned and looked at the wings and, sure enough, they were pretty orange. They fluttered, a butterfly’s fragility in the movements. He could hardly wrap his mind around the mechanics of them, but they worked, he knew that much just by how he was able to put them away.

            "Oh, no," Sheena sputtered. Like Zelos's wings were an hypnotizing book that had been taken from her grasps just as she'd gotten to the good part.

            "Can you bring them back out?" Lloyd asked. Zelos suddenly had a picture of a slobbering dog begging for scraps in his mind. All Lloyd was missing was a tail and some floppy ears. It was kind of endearing.

            Zelos smiled and nodded. "Do you doubt me? Of course I can!" So he did, the wings illuminating the walls of the room again.

            "The next seal is to the south," Kratos ruined the fun by saying. "We should leave and continue our journey."

            Zelos hopped down from the altar, hovering just before his feet touched stone. He put his wings away and touched ground, sending a smile over in Kratos's direction. "Lead the way then, Emperor Eggplant." Sheena smiled at the jab and Lloyd laughed in good nature, as if he wasn't as much of a criminal in the world of fashion as his brother was.

            When they left the altar room, Zelos couldn't help but feel Gabriela had been lying to him. Sure, he felt a little worse for wear, but not any more than he had before he had earned his wings. "That Gabriela doesn't know what she's talking about," Zelos boasted as he walked out at Lloyd's side, "I feel better than I did before we got here!"

            "You are going to exhaust yourself," Kratos predicted.

            "Oh whatever! I'm as strong as an ox!" Zelos laughed. "If anything, I bet I could take you on right now and win, that's how good I feel!"

            "You're jinxing yourself, you moron.”

            "I dunno, Sheena," Lloyd considered, "Zelos _did_ manage to nail a hit on that monster back there."

            "Yeah, and I got in, like, twenty hits of that same strength," she scoffed. Kratos smirked and kept his gaze ahead as they walked out of the temple.

            "Whatever," Zelos repeated. "That was before. This is now. I could totally—whoah." Just as Zelos walked three steps into the sun, he felt like his entire body had been slammed into by gravity itself, and, spoiler alert, gravity was pissed with him. He stumbled backwards and hit the ground, hard.

            "Zelos!" Sheena and Lloyd exclaimed, both kneeling beside him rheiard fast.

            "He’s really pale," Lloyd said a thousand miles away.

            "What's happening?!" Sheena demanded from the top of a well.

            "Like you said, he jinxed himself," Kratos's voice echoed, "The journey can be very rough on a Chosen's body. Gabriela warned..." His voice faded away.

            Zelos repeated the same phrase over and over again in tiny whispers, the world turning black around him while he said:

            "I'm as strong... as an ox..."

 


	3. Chapter 3

            The trip to the campsite had been cloudy at best—an excruciatingly long trial where the idea of placing one foot before the other was the hardest thing to grasp in his mind, let alone to carry out physically. Zelos felt his feet moving, scraping at the dirt as they dragged him along and away from the temple, but he had been acting off of muscle memory and the help of the ninja at his side. Sheena's right arm wrapped around his waist and tugged him along as the brothers scouted ahead for a clearing suitable for their campsite.

            She talked to Zelos the entire time they walked. It was a muffled but consistent sound—as though she were speaking through clumps of cotton placed deep within her throat, stopping him from catching everything that escaped her lips.

            "-t's -kay... Ju-t a l---le furt--r."

            She kept looking upward at him for reasons he didn't know, fear etched deep into her face. Despite her fear, he kept on wading through heavy air and sliding earth, his weight leaning into her and his mind wandering just out of reach.

            Finally, Sheena stopped their journey after a beckon ahead from Lloyd. She eased Zelos down onto a rock, gentle and sliding down with him to keep him steady. Then she stayed beside his numbed body, twisting so she pressed against his arm and she examined his face. Her hand lifted and she removed his headband, his hair now falling in front of his eyes. He blinked a few times, trying to will away the invasive strands from his already foggy eyesight while she used the headband to blot along his neck. She paused, the moment lacking in mobility so much so that it was impregnated with Zelos’s wonder and pain.

            Then Sheena moved once more. She eased him into a flatter position, trying to pick his body up as much as she could so he didn't get too dirty while also keeping his head elevated against the nearby stone. His body slid a bit more into the dirt than she intended and she grabbed him quickly before he could become completely horizontal.

            His breath sucked away at the air in a quick gasp and Sheena stopped her moving again. She held him, reclined, for a moment. Her right hand sat warm upon his stomach while the other rested against the back of his neck, glove covered fingernails brushing right below his crimson hairline. When she was sure that he wouldn't slide all the way down into the dirt, she placed a pack filled with softer items behind his head and the fingernails became like wide-ended, clothed needles that pricked his nerves. Finally, Sheena sighed in relief when the adjusting of his body was all done. She started settling at his side only to be stopped when Lloyd asked across the campsite, "Sheena, will you help with the food?"

            "... Is it okay to just...?" Sheena tore her eyes from Zelos to look towards the boy with an unsure expression.

            "I will watch after him," Kratos spoke up.

            After a long pause, Sheena replied with, "Fine," and she was soon across the campsite helping Lloyd with dinner.

            Kratos padded over and took a seat beside Zelos, his purple hand stretching out ever-so-slightly to heal the redhead. Zelos's eyes shut and he groaned.

            "That Gabriela wasn't kidding."

            Kratos did not respond. At first, Zelos was irritated. Too typical for Kratos to act childishly.

            He tried again. "Hey, asshole."

            Not even a scoff from Kratos. Zelos began to wonder if he had spoken at all. He tried as hard as he could to reopen his eyes. Impossible.

            When he finally managed to will the muscles of his lids to lift, night had fallen over them. His companions huddled ten feet away, grouped around the crackling campfire. Their stew bowls steamed with fresh heat, the tendons of the dead beast's muscles withering and tightening in wafts of stench that blew his way. He imagined the muscle, how it turned from oozing red to faded pink to ashen gray to deep brown. Cooked carnage. He imagined the blood that fell from the body of the animal as it was slaughtered for their evening meal, undoubtedly a messy affair made up of congealed gore. He imagined the carrots and the other vegetables that floated about in the hearty stew broth dug up from the ground, covered in dirt and hugged by insects, further destroying his rotting inclination to eat.

            Stew made from the excrement of the earth—a disgusting meal to feed their energy, salted to a tartness that allowed the abhorrent nutrients to create strength within their innards.

            He used to love stew.

            Zelos tore his gaze away from the repugnant meal and onto the three’s lips as they spoke. He struggled to focus through the fog onto the words.

            "Are you sure that he's going to be okay to travel tomorrow?" Lloyd’s eyebrows pulled together, his gaze fixed on his brother while he poked at the stew with his spoon. Pouting.

            Kratos swallowed a decent sized potato half. He looked strangely at home in the wild. "He will be fine. He is simply adjusting to becoming a new being."

            "A new being?" Sheena inquired, slumped over her meal like somebody might come along and snatch it away at any moment. She looked down at her bowl and rotated it clock-wise in her hands. He’d never noticed how much she fiddled. "Like, an angel?"

            "Precisely. You heard what the messenger, Gabriela, foretold.” He looked at her, expectant for something. Maybe an admittance of incompetence. Maybe a pat on the back for being so pretentious. Who knew with Kratos? He probably hadn’t been hugged much as a kid. Zelos could relate.

            "Well, he just doesn't seem very angelic. So, sometimes, I guess I forget that that's the whole point of this journey." Sheena scoffed now, rolled her eyes nice and over-expressive. "We _have_ to have Martel's blessings for this journey. It'll take a miracle to make that guy even a little bit holy—"

            "Hey." Lloyd had caught Zelos eavesdropping. Sheena's gaze followed Lloyd's and she finally made eye-contact. Her cheeks went red and a cough awkwardly escaped her throat. She turned away to coil inward and stare into her stew; as though it were the most interesting thing in the world. "How are you feeling?" Lloyd making move to approach him now.

            "Better." Zelos lifted his hand to stop Lloyd from advancing much further. He felt like shit, but he didn’t know how much was the journey and how much was carry over from his other recovery. "Not that that's saying much," he added, tone carefully picked to stay light and dismissive. It’d do no good to have the kid fretting over him.

            "You were pretty bad earlier.” Lloyd broke into a smile. “So it means enough to hear you’re better now."

            "Are you hungry?" Kratos asked Zelos, eyeing him with a suspicious amount of insight.

            "No... No, I'm alright," Zelos said. "I think I just need to sleep it off, y'know?"

            "You're never going to get your strength back if you don't eat." Sheena cut in like dive-bombing insect. Annoying, buzzing, could sting you but probably wouldn’t, and trying to wave her off just left your arms aching by the end of it all. Then she’d buzz back in, nag some more. Gotta stay well if you wanna die well. Eventually she’d find a light to fly into. Leave him alone for once.

            "Well, think of it this way, hunny." He managed to rile up one of his more bitter smiles. "The less energy I have, the less likely it is that I'll talk. That's a positive for you, I'd venture to say," he retorted, shutting the flustered ninja up. It was one thing for her to act like she hated him, another one entirely for her to get called on her gab.

            "Hey, don't be mean," Lloyd ordered.

            "Considering I'm the one who gets to go through all the bullshit while you all sit around a campfire gossiping?” Zelos groaned as he sat up against his boulder pillow. “I'd say that I can be as mean as I damn well please.”

            Lloyd plopped his bowl of food down recklessly, broth splashing into the fire so the flames licked the air in a frenzy. "We were getting along pretty well back at the temple! Just go back to that!"

            "Lloyd, stop encouraging him," Kratos said. "He is simply baiting you."

            Lloyd leaned over, grabbed the ladle from the pot of stew, and assembled another bowl. "I don't care if I'm being baited or not," he mumbled angrily into the meal, "It's a waste of time for us to be fighting like this. This is a holy journey and we all keep fighting. It's ridiculous." He dropped the ladle into the cauldron, and, in four long strides, he arrived at Zelos's side, kneeling so they were on eye-level. "You need to eat." Insistent.

            "I’m gonna stick that stupid bowl in a not-so-pleasant place if you don't get out of my face, kid," Zelos snarled.

            Lloyd set the bowl down on a nearby rock, far more gentle with food that wasn’t his own, before boldly leaning over and forcing the red-head to sit up further. "Hey!" Zelos squirmed in vain.

            The swordsman finally felt that Zelos was upright enough, so he grabbed the thick broth and held it out once more. His eyes shined like those of an innocent doe fit for slaughter, peering from a downward tilted position like that.

            "I am not eating that.” It was really out of spite more than anything now.

            "Then I'll just feed it to you." Lloyd was already lifting the spoon from the stew.

            He shoved it at Zelos’s mouth only to come against the wall of his hand, a barrier to keep Lloyd’s grimy spoon and stew away from his tongue. When the broth splashed onto the fabric of his gloves, Zelos only thought later about how it didn’t burn. Only realized later that he hadn’t felt the scorch. Lloyd prodded repeatedly like he might be able to will Zelos’s hand away with pure, child-blind persistence.

            "You whined about wanting this stuff almost every day we've been on the road, and now you don't want it?" Lloyd’s face was incredulous. And why shouldn't he have looked at Zelos like that? The reason was well enough. Zelos had begged and complained for stew almost every day, and, now that it was there, he didn't want any? He didn't even want to try it? It was odd. Odd enough that even Lloyd noticed and he wasn't exactly leading a pack of scholars back in Sybak.

            Zelos removed his hands and snatched away the spoon, all while glaring at Lloyd. Lloyd just brightened up immediately, his head reigned back into regular position to beam a great white grin.

            "You're trying to fatten me up so you feel better about yourself," Zelos decided.

            Could Kratos really know about the journey side-effects? It seemed unlikely he could find out without Lloyd knowing as well considering how close they were. And Lloyd certainly didn’t know himself. The kid was a lot of things but he wasn't cruel. If he knew that Zelos was... eating inept? Was that the right phrase? He wasn't sure if there was a technical term for angel induced appetite suppression, but it wasn't as though he had an opportunity to take Regenerate the World 101 back in school either.

            Anyway, if Lloyd knew, he wouldn't force the food on him, right? And Kratos and Lloyd shared a brain, albeit a small one but a brain nonetheless. If Kratos knew then Lloyd would have to know too. That was just logic. If Lloyd didn't know, Kratos didn't know. Sheena most certainly didn't know. Not that she would care, she just had never been the best at keeping secrets.

            The idea of being even _more_ different from them—of sitting out at dinner and watching them eat and laugh while he sat afar with this inability to enjoy the food he used to love so dearly... He didn't want that. So, Zelos took the spoon and dunked it into the stew. Then he dumped it onto his tongue, expecting something rank.

            He was pleasantly surprised, but only in the way that a man who is stabbed in the kidney is thankful that he wasn't pierced in his heart. Tasteless. The buds on his tongue had finally gotten sick of his polarized preferences for spicy and sweet and went on strike to let him know about it. He never had anticipated that, one day, he would be lucky enough to lose a part of himself as integral as taste. Even if he had tried to prepare for it, he doubted that it would have been sufficient. Stew without taste: just a warm bland mass of texture bouncing about in his mouth to quench an already dead appetite. A machine who knew how to chew. An android trying to be normal.

            Zelos lifted his head and he smiled. "It's good, but I'm really just not that hungry."

            "Oh, c'mon, just eat a few more bites. And _then_ you can go back to sleep," Lloyd urged.

            "You have to keep your strength up," Sheena added.

            "Fine fine!" Zelos rolled his eyes. "I swear, you two are exhausting."

            "You're the exhausting one," Sheena huffed.

            "Whatever. I'm eating I'm eating!" Zelos popped the spoon in his mouth again to show her what-for. It was even worse the second time around.

            Astonishingly enough, Zelos didn't feel like staying up and bullshitting with his companions after being forced to choke down half of his dinner. He placed the bowl down beside his trusty rock just as Lloyd and Sheena talked, good-natured and natural. They only paused to watch him when he sunk into the dirt and rolled away from them, but quickly continued with their conversation.

            It was Kratos who walked over and placed a bottle of water by his head and it was Kratos who took the bowl back to the center of the camp-site where he cleaned and dried it.

            With the feeling of dread heavy on his heart, it unnerved to see just how quickly Zelos was able to go to sleep.

 

            Strength gave way to pain gave way to numbness. Days passed, the physical weight departed along with the time, and he fought at the side's of the others against roadside foes. Now fully recovered from all traces of the suicide attempt, he found the background ringing of constant physical aches replaced with something new—something that clawed deep inside him beyond his heart. (He was just short of thinking of it as a soul, but that wasn’t right either. You can’t feel a soul.) As the others tired, he did as well, but only of their inability to follow him. He couldn't remember ever having so much physical ability, couldn’t remember feeling so good when he felt like dying.

            Before long they arrived at the base of the Fuji Mountains. Winding, pale mountain paths stretched out before them and the group of four wearing already feeling fatigued at the sight. Even Kratos stood a little slumped. Zelos's nose scrunched up, but, just as he was about to complain, Lloyd took a deep breath. He released it in a long line of verbal complaints that swooped with his breath like a gust of wind.

            "You're kidding me," he groaned. His arms flailed out from his hunched form. "This place is ridiculous. Can't we go around?" His hands limply waggled about below his hips, feet danced in little childish half-steps. Zelos half expected him to throw a fit on the ground, but he wasn’t about to mock him. The Fuji Mountains were excessive. He had half a mind to call up the Lezareno Corp. and commission a buggy to drive them up.

            Zelos raised his hand. "I'm going to second that.”

            "Yeah, I'm with you guys on this one,” Sheena shoved her hands against the small of her back.

            Kratos sneered over his shoulder at them from the forefront of their party. "If there was another way, we would be taking it."

            "There's gotta be another way," Zelos pressed.

            "The other paths are blocked by Desians.”

            "Can't we... Like... I don't know. Let's just fight the Desians and push our way through!" Lloyd suggested.

            "No."

            "You're not gonna budge on this, are ya?" Sheena asked. She shot Zelos a look of ‘can you believe this guy?’ He shrugged. He couldn’t.

            "No."

            "Oh whatever, let's just move along then." Zelos threw a hand in the air and strode forward, taking the lead as they headed up the mountain. "I don't have the patience to talk sense into that thick skull anyway."

            Lloyd followed last, but not before groaning, "Uuuugh," and dragging his boots against the grain of loosely packed dirt until the slope proved too steep to allow such immature behavior.

            They fell into their usual, unified cadence as they walked, only breaking out of their pace to take out monsters along the way. At the appearance of a small group of beasts, Sheena and Zelos held back, letting the brothers handle it.

            Zelos ran a hand through his hair before letting it rest on his hip. "I am already so done with this place.”

            "You and me both," Sheena agreed, but her eyes stopped scanning the environment to lock on something behind the redhead.

            "What now?" Zelos turned to investigate. Hidden behind a rock against the face of the mountain cliff was a narrow opening. From where Zelos stood, he could only see shadows behind the large boulder. "It's just some lame hole in the wall," he decided.

            Those waggled her finger at the crack in the bluff. "I thought I saw something shine inside of it."

            "Probably some kinda shiny rock. What does it even matter, Sheena?" Zelos leaned back up against a tree. "Unless it's an elevator, I'm not interested in looking at it."

            Just as Zelos reclined, the tree behind him gave way beneath his back. He tensed, ear drums catching the _tick_ under him inside the tree's surprisingly hollow trunk. He turned around, eyes wide in surprise as he tried to figure out what just happened. Meanwhile, Sheena pointed at the opening behind the stone again.

            "Look!"

            Zelos's whipped back around, a momentum fit to send strands of red hair clouding his sight like a crimson fog. When he finally caught a glimpse of what Sheena's finger jabbed towards, Kratos and Lloyd had walked over and cut the sight short, replacing his vantage point view with their hideous purple and red buckle-happy backsides.

            "What are you guys doing?" Lloyd asked.

            "There's a cavern in there! A secret one!" Sheena exclaimed, still waving her index finger about like a wiggling worm. The brothers looked at the crack in the wall, which had opened wider to allow passage for even the largest of persons. Lloyd turned to Kratos for his opinion, which the mercenary was quick to give.

            "It is just a cave," Kratos announced. "Let's continue."

            A light-bulb flashed on in Zelos's head. He couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed and shocked he hadn't thought of it sooner.

            "Mine."

            "The mountain belongs to everybody, Zelos, don't be greedy—" Lloyd's joke went interrupted.

            "Mine. A mine. Like a mining tunnel," Zelos reiterated. By the vacant expression on the kid’s face, he could plainly see that Lloyd was not connecting the obvious dots.

            "If it's a tunnel, we can cut through it and onto the other side!" Sheena chirped excitedly. _Good girl._

            Zelos puffed his chest out. "That would make the journey for today be split in half, _easy_."

            "The mine is probably overrun with Desians," Kratos spoke up. He always seemed to be looking for a way to dampen the mood. At this point having dashed dreams was just a Pavlov dog's instinct when that deep stoic voice vibrated through anybody's eardrums, especially Zelos's.

            "So?" Sheena's hip popped an impressive amount. Her wrist flipped against the bone of her pelvis so her fingers pointed behind her body. "It'll be worth it. Besides, the Desians are our enemies."

            "Only if we antagonize them," Kratos reminded.

            "Don't you think those assholes need a bit of antagonizing though?" Zelos asked. "For their outfits alone. I mean, their entire uniform is criminal. Never mind the fact they're, like I said before, total assholes."

            "Yeah, but the Desians can regroup," Lloyd said with an uncharacteristic amount of strategist forethought. "They're all over Tethe'alla too. If we piss off a few, we piss off them all."

            "Not like you to discourage a battle, red-hot." And it wasn't, but Zelos's call out was more about gauging a reaction from Lloyd than about stating the obvious. "What's the deal with that? Ya scared?"

            Lloyd's cheeks turned pink. His head reared back and he squeaked, "I'm not scared!"

            "Well, then," Zelos chimed with a grin, "No reason not to go through the mines then!"

            "We're going around." Without waiting for compliance or argument, Kratos began walking along the other path.

            Just the audacity that Kratos expected Zelos to follow made his blood boil with a temper so hot that it leveled even the sun's fire. As Kratos walked away—Lloyd starting to follow—Zelos lifted his chin up high and turned on his heel towards the cavern.

            "Have fun with that, I guess." Zelos grabbed Sheena by hooking his arm around her shoulders and covering her flustered squeak with his continued commentary, "We're going through here."

            "Zelos!" Sheena gaped up at him in surprise. Kratos was typically not a person worth playing catty games with.

            "Chosen one, you are under our protection. We were given this task because of our specific qualifications. These qualifications were found suitable and also irrefutable by the entire Church of Martel along with the Royal Family," Kratos said behind them. What a name-dropper.

            "Wow. Impressive. Then I hope, with a hefty resume like that, you know how to protect me while you take the long route. Because I'm just going to head on through this mine here, thank you very much." For good measure, he took his free hand and whipped out the back of his vest like a dismissive cape.

            A hand pushed at the side not shielded by Sheena. Kratos shoved past him, a heaviness in his step that was newly weighted by irritation, to check out the innards of the mine tunnel to assure that the path was safe. Looked like Zelos could still taste a sweet victory every now and again.

            Kratos stayed in front, his body in a carefully kept straight line as he entered the cavern despite his buzzing and barely contained fury. Sword drawn, he looked around in the bowels of the darkness for any sign of Desian activity. After a moment he turned to the others, clearly annoyed that something hadn't attacked and proven him right.

            "You may proceed."

            "See? What did I tell ya? You two are worry warts! I blame that on that shared little brain you guys have," Zelos waltzed in with Sheena still glued to his side (though not by her choice).

            A screech tore through the calmness of the air. Zelos jumped back with Sheena gripped tight in one hand, her curse ringing through his ear. From the shadows reared a monster. Its great form lifted upwards until its hideous face pierced through the dim light, one angry red eye lay centered in its forehead. Its mossy colored, leathery hide of a skin was decorated with long lines of white, lifted, veins and a stench permeated the stale air as it moved, as though the smell oozed from its movement, as though every inch gained was a hundred bodied rotten in its gut.

            It swiped at Kratos with three giant talons that ripped the dagger out from his hand. He grunted from deep inside his chest, guttural, and stumbled backwards into a heap on the ground. Blood dripped, _plop-plop_ , from his sliced hand onto the stone floor.

            Usually quick as a whip to react in any situation, Kratos stayed frozen on the ground, his hand lifted up like he couldn't believe what had happened. His eyes, wide like the base of the mountain they stood on, staring up at the bellowing beast before him. The monster shrieked again.

            Zelos could have sworn he heard, "Dad," somewhere in the wavelength of the cry as Lloyd ran quickly into the fray, his swords drawn as he began to pummel the monster before it could make a victim of his brother.

            It cried out with a voice almost like a human, but Lloyd continued to fight. With Kratos at risk it was doubtful Lloyd was thinking of anything other than kill zones and vulnerabilities. Zelos remembered a mouse he’d killed for Seles once—snapped its neck in his hand when she wasn’t looking. How dare it make her shriek.

            Kratos was soon back up on his feet, slow at first. Whatever had frightened him he was quick to bury it away to fight alongside his kin. The monster whipped its large ape-like arms to and fro, smashing sharpened claws into the walls of the cave so that the rocks quivered and broke under the strain, making them drop to the ground like a pebbled deluge.

            "Together!" Kratos yelled to Lloyd. The two pierced the red, crystallized oculus with their blades together. The beast dropped to the rocky floor. Finality in gore.

            Sheena remained pinned to Zelos the entire time and he to her as well. At first because of his tight embrace but later dissolving into a matter of shielding themselves from the greater part of the battle. They stood just barely inside the cave, having backtracked as soon as the monster appeared.

            She asked, whisper soft as a down feather against his neck, "Did that thing... Did it just yell, 'dad'?"

            Dad.

            Zelos looked at Kratos, barely under thirty in his age. He could not see the eyes of the mercenary, but that told him a lot in and of itself. He stood motionless while Lloyd dragged the corpse into the depths of the cave to disintegrate in the blackness where Kratos's gaze couldn't reach. Lloyd had specifically taken the beast in the opposite way of Kratos's forward facing form.

            The guy could kill anything without a second thought. While he wasn’t Zelos's favorite, he always managed to do everything with such conviction. Unearthed even by the sight of angels. This guy had faltered at the sight of some watermelon mutant mammoth. It had hardly been a challenge, but it had to have resonated in some way with his heart. The way frostbite never threatened Zelos but he still couldn’t bear the sight of the snow.

            Kratos had gone into the cave expecting a fight yet he'd been caught off guard.

            Dad.

            If anybody cared enough to ask for Zelos's opinion, he’d let them know that the whole thing felt eerie. If he ever felt compelled to tell a story in the future to somebody about something weird, he'd probably tell them about the fighter who had been scared by the watermelon cave monster. Not that people often confronted Zelos with the demand of a strange story while on a journey to regenerate the world, but it always helped to be prepared.

            Suddenly, Kratos's head lifted and his one visible eye locked onto Zelos. Zelos straightened a bit, swallowing back any more wandering theories.

            "This cave does not cut through. We'll need to continue our journey by the way of which we were already proceeding." And with that he left the cave, Lloyd stumbling over himself to stay right on his trail.

            "Dad, huh."

            He couldn’t just let that lack pursuit for long. Zelos took two hot steps forward before Sheena yanked him back with a visceral grip around a chunk of hair.

            "Ow! Hey! What's the deal!?"

            "Don't be an ass," she hissed. "He's riled up. I know you probably don't care but don't pour any salt into his wounds, okay?"

            "Why not?!" It seemed only fair that he did just that. He had hardly any leeway on Kratos and the mercenary seemed to know everything about him, so why not pry into his life? "It's not as if he hasn't started this!"

            "It'll upset Lloyd and he hasn't started anything." Sheena lifted her eyebrows, smug, and released him.

            For some reason, those words changed his mind, and he let Kratos and Lloyd go on ahead of Sheena and himself.

 

 

            One day. Twenty-four hours. One world rotation.

            It took one full day of hiking and fighting and whining to get through that hellish mountain. Even with his physical endurance heightened, Zelos was a step away from just flying off the mountain and letting himself drop from the sky in another attempt to kill himself because it was too much. It was too much boring. The entire thing was just unbearable and he couldn't stand it and, when they finally got through the mountain, he was so overwhelmed with joy and good feeling that he grabbed Lloyd, the closest person to him, and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek while crying out over and over, "There is a Goddess! We're done with that mountain!"

            Then Kratos had reminded him, as Lloyd groaned and grumbled and wiped spit from his cheek, that they still had a ways to go until they reached the temple and then even longer _still_ to the next seal and then to the seal after _that_ and Zelos was in a bad mood all over again.

            A straight journey to the temple in the southern part of the continent got them to where they needed to be in about four days time, to the Temple of Darkness. It was sort of ironic, being at the Temple of Darkness while being a beacon of light for the world.

            However, when they reached the temple, a new problem surfaced.

            Security measures of a modern time now surrounded the ancient edifice, all branded with the same company crest. The Lezareno Company had sealed them out with their metallic locks and computerized mechanisms. The unmanned machines beeped obnoxiously as the group searched the landscape for some hole in the gates.

            Kratos entered another incorrect password in the most prominent gate lock. The fence trilled so loud it made Zelos dizzy.

            "This is insane!" Lloyd said. "These stupid machines are abandoned! What does Lezareno gain from nobody being allowed inside? Other than being complete assholes?" He glanced quickly at Kratos after the word left his lips, ready for a swift lecture. Kratos’s eyebrows were pulled down heavy as he considered a new code.

            "Maybe they're mining something from inside?" Sheena suggested.

            "It's the temple of darkness, hunny. Not exactly something you can capitalize on," Zelos crossed his arms over his chest as the fence whirred again.

            "... We have to get inside thoooough," Lloyd whined.

            "Our options are either to continue trying the codes—" Kratos winced as another password came out incorrectly. "— which has an endless possibility of number combinations, or... " the machine shrieked again. Then Kratos spoke again with an amusing amount of vindictiveness, "We destroy the equipment."

            "Should we make an enemy out of Lezareno though? They're kind of a big deal," Sheena said.

            "They're not giving us much of a choice, locking us out like this! I say we just barge through!"

            "I don't care," Zelos shrugged. He could fly over the fence, so honestly it would be on them if they broke anything. "You guys do whatever you want."

            Kratos gave Lloyd a single nod of encouragement. The youngest of the group took a step forward, unsheathing one sword to swipe through the electrical locks with an unneeded amount of power. For good measure (or maybe because of frustration), he swung a few more times, opening a large hole in the dying electrical wires so the group could pursue through the gap.

            As they entered the dim temple, the opening altar stone being unused due to Lezareno already prying open the building, Sheena cracked her knuckles against her back and stretched.

            "This is getting easier.”

            "Fighting and building up our physical defenses have become innate. In relation to you two, the fights are training you to become competent fighters," Kratos replied. He spared the smallest glance for Zelos but remained trained on Sheena once he realized Zelos wouldn’t bite that bait. Sheena had started that one, let her deal with it.

            "Does it, like, physically pain you to be nice to people or are we just special?" she scoffed, already knowing the answer. Looked like she knew better to take the bait too.

            Lloyd smiled over his shoulder. "You two do pretty well though! You haven't been fighting like this for very long, but you're keeping up with no problem!"

            Zelos rolled his eyes. "I'm really touched by this exchange," he began, "But can we keep on moving? This place is creepy."

            "Agreed."

            With a bit of maneuvering through mazes set up by Lezareno security (which were all annihilated by Lloyd when they came upon the barriers), they reached the main altar, a dark and untouched part of the temple. Maybe somebody on the Lezareno staff was superstitious/ religious enough to know just where the line was drawn while defacing a temple.

            "Stay back this time," Kratos urged Zelos.

            "You don't have to tell me twice." The chosen lifted his hands and took two skip jumps backwards. "I'm not about to get dragged into the front lines of a surprise attack again."

            Lloyd drew his swords, pacing the front of the group like a caged lion, his path running parallel to the altar and every curve in its foundation. Some people were born with an innate talent to fight, and that talent ran through the Aurion brothers' blood. Back and forth, Lloyd's feet carried him along the edges of the unstirred chantry.

            "C'mon! You're not scared are you?" Patronizing and cocky.

            "Yeah, get the monster all pissed off before it tries to kill us—that's a brilliant idea," Sheena mumbled.

            "Chosen One, take out your wings and make yourself known," Kratos urged.

            "What?" Zelos frowned. "Red hot is doing a swell job making us known right now—do I really have to—"

            The bowels of the altar bubbled with blackness. The dim lights shut off around them.

            "Damnit! Here it comes!" Lloyd yelled, disoriented through the darkness.

            With Lloyd’s swords lifted in defense over his face, he’d further blinded himself from oncoming attacks. Zelos looked over, seeing Sheena backing away with her arms lifted as well. Kratos, however, looked as gathered as he usually did- as though his sight was just as advanced as Zelos's.

            A transparent monster lifted from the ground like a black fog, deep growl snarling out of its starlight muzzle. It eased closer to Lloyd in the darkness, rumbling from every orifice now, as though every part of it gave way to cardiac path.

            Kratos ran forward as soon as the monster got too close to his brother. "Light the room!" he yelled. "Keep your guard up!"

            Sheena bolted from Zelos's side, moving to light all of the lanterns that had been extinguished. Meanwhile, Zelos shut his eyes and let his wings stretch out until they felt pinned to the air itself.

            Darkness versus light. Light always wins. Right?

            He hunched his back a bit, hiding away his praying hands from those who might think to catch him in such a distinguished position. Shutting his eyes, he did not lose sight of his enemy. He felt it flow around him, as though he was fighting every inch of shadow that covered the room—that covered the earth.

            The incantation had haunted his dreams ever since the first seal had been opened. Using it now, he knew he would smite the beast with its power.

            " _Holy wings, gather here and reveal our Lord's will... Angel Feathers!"_

            Light fell from thin air into the darkness and eliminated the beast, so violent it shrieked until the last atom was dissipated. The mercenaries ceased their assaults and Sheena finished lighting the room. Every dainty feather that touched the black monster burned it into oblivion. Never had Zelos witnessed such beauty in a massacre.

            "Wow."

            "Whoah."

            Sheena and Lloyd said in unison.

            The dust cleared alongside the darkness and a light emitted from deep within the altar. Bells of victory ringing at the end of a festival, Gabriela's voice sounded against the walls and through the eardrums of the panting, winning group. Zelos felt his wings involuntarily flutter and he stumbled forward by an inch at the re-acquaintance with the angel's sweet voice.

            "Chosen of Regeneration… You have done well in reaching this far. Now, offer your prayers at the altar."

            Heaviness left him and he took a few steps forward after muttering a soft, "Yes."

            The words came easier to him this time than they had at the previous offerings. Maybe a class wasn't necessary after all.

            "Oh Goddess Martel, great protector and nurturer of the earth, grant me thy strength."

            His body lifted upward, his wings gently fluttering behind. When he opened his eyes again, he did it at the beckoning of a cold, nimble finger under his chin. Gabriela had appeared to meet him and she was staring deep into his eyes with her own. A pair that led deep into some sort of cold soul. Familiar.

            _Mother._

            "You have done well, Chosen One." She smiled softly and then did something that made his breath stop dead in his lungs.

            "Zelos." Her fingers dropped from under his chin, the smile stayed. "The second seal is now released. Accept this blessing from Cruxis. I hereby grant you additional angelic power."

            The white space is back, holding him tighter and dragging him into a dense mass that he cannot see. The colors fade and churn around him as his world closes in. Zelos feels the fear deep within him rear its head, so he screams, because Gabriela is going to do _it_ again.

            She presses her hands against his chest, lips to his ear to whisper, "Don't be afraid," and that only succeeds in feeding into his fear more.

            Then one hand reaches deep into the crystal for the writhing part inside of him that she injured last time. It tries to limp away like a wounded deer, but she rips off another one of its legs again, causing Zelos to scream. His humanity falls, now crippled to the point that it can only lay down and cry within him.

            She pulls the chunk of his soul out and smiles as she pulls it inside of her, before she brings him back, ignorant, to the real, hateful world inside the Temple of Darkness.

            A-ah," Zelos gasped. His wings fluttered behind him and he found himself biting on the inside of his cheek as she spoke to him, smile warm on her lips. "The next seal lies far north, in a place that gazes upon the end and electricity pulses the earth. Offer your prayers at the altar in this distant land."

            "Electricity!? You don't mean Volt's Temple—!"

            "Be quiet." Kratos cut off Sheena's sudden outburst. Gabriela suddenly sneered at the ninja in disgust.

            "Thank you," Zelos spoke up quickly, making Gabriela's eyes ricochet back to him. He smiled a bright smile.

            "I will be waiting for you at the next seal. Do not disappoint me, Zelos."

            She disappeared so suddenly but never had Zelos wanted her acceptance more. The coldness in her eyes. The way her hair framed her face so beautifully. The way it curled down her back and flowed so effortlessly. He couldn't stand how much he loved this angel. He couldn't stand how much she made him miss his mother.

            With the thoughts of Mylene Wilder plaguing his mind, he really couldn't remember the journey out of the temple. He honestly couldn't remember anything until three days passed, although he knew that he didn't sleep in any of that time.

 


	4. Chapter 4

            The prison cell was misleadingly grungy, certainly not one of quality like Zelos had expected from Lezareno. Of course, one could understand why you wouldn’t want to place too many luxuries in a holding room. That being said, Zelos would have killed for some room service and a cell that wasn’t cramped with two other dudes, a pissy ninja, and one toilet in the middle of the back wall for them all to share. Nobody had needed to use it yet. Which was good because Zelos just wasn’t sure he could deal with seeing the privates of his privateers. Modesty on a journey to an ultimate demise was strangely prestigious to him.

            “I can’t believe they don’t teach you how to break out of prison in ninja school,” Lloyd grumbled.

            She glowered at him. “I can’t believe they don’t teach you how to break out of prison in mercenary school.” Sheena stood up hastily and began pacing the floor. “Or how to avoid lousy second-rate Lezareno security! That seems like mercenary school basics!”

            “Sounds rather like ninja basics as well.” Kratos rumbled from ground level. His hand rested over a nasty wound in his gut courtesy of those second-rate security guards. The eldest mercenary had been healing it but it was deep. Even with Zelos’s help it wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.

            A journey of molecular rewrite is not the type that goes easy on your cerebrum. It’s tough and Zelos certainly wouldn’t be recommending it to any travel agencies any time soon. No, no. It turned out that becoming an angel had some less-than linear effects on time.

            There’s a kind of state of consciousness Zelos had been unaware of before his maligned vacation. A state made up of double-bladed awareness, it enabled the brain to move one foot in front of the other and allowed the mouth movement in the usual ways—say the typical things. Made the hands grope at the usual breasts. The motions. The mask. The mask had never been a real thing, just a metaphor to place blame upon when Zelos’s conscious got a little too rowdy, but the mask was real now. It slipped on and Zelos slipped away, regressed— _white room white room empty humanity white room Mylene and snow and red red red_ —but he couldn’t guess that there were any signs of it made known to Sheena. No sign to the mercenary brothers either, but their pea brains were never too hard to fool.

            The second day of walking and talking and bickering and flirting after the temple wasn’t especially pretty in either this way or that way. It was a little cloudy but no sight of oncoming rains. No wind, a nasty bit of humidity that made Zelos’s nose crinkle a bit, but it was overall forgettable. The sort of day a person looks outside, sees, “Well, hopefully it’s radically more interesting tomorrow,” and the day continues.

            The weather, despite already being bland, held no chance of precedence when faced with the day ahead. Turned out, the Lezareno Company was not a fan of anybody destroying their equipment. Whatever they were doing in the Temple of Darkness had been especially important. Guess they didn’t know they could turn off the lights and shut the blinds for some good old fashioned darkness. Maybe the sun and beach bleached that Bryant’s brain stupid.

            While Zelos and his merry band paraded on their way to the Temple of Lightning, he heard the steps like the orchestral tap tap tapping of drumsticks against the hide of a snare drum.

_Step step step lively. We must take down those who tore down our lovely Lezareno lunatic livewires. Step step step lively. We must gravely outnumber a religious pilgrimage and attack them violently. Step step step lively. We have no respect for class system superiority._

            Zelos stopped short. Kratos quickly mirrored the action and looked at him, not curious but expecting. His eyebrows quirked and his lips pursed just a millimeter different from when he didn’t know the answer to the line of thought in his brain. Sheena stumbled to a stop and Lloyd turned on his heel in confusion.

            “What’s going on?” Sheena asked.

            “I hear… A _lot_ of people coming at us.”

            Kratos nodded. “Which side?”

            Zelos shut his eyes.

_Step step step lively. We’re three hundred and sixty degrees of fundamental fuck you, there’s no way out._

            “Every side.”

            Lloyd drew his swords and Kratos immediately whacked him in the back of the head. “Stop it. There’s no use fighting whoever is coming if they have us surrounded in such large numbers.”

            “So you want us to give up?!”

            Sheena separated her legs and adopted a stance of power, laughable given her immediate misbalance when she leaned forward and clenched her little fists in belligerence. “We can’t just give up!” She backed Lloyd. “We won’t know if we can win until we fight!”

            Zelos snorted. “You don’t hear what I hear,” he singsonged.

            “Regardless of theatrics,” Kratos began, “We have to adopt strategy. We stand to be surrounded from all sides in an open field. We gain nothing from fighting a force so large.”

            Zelos threw his hands behind his head, clasped them, and shrugged. “And, besides, a group that large is probably church affiliated. They see me and they’ll immediate drop to their knees in forgiveness for even daring to attack the chosen.”

            “You do realize that we’re here because people actually do intend to kill you, right?” Sheena’s tone was rhetorical.

            “It’s not safe, regardless, but we need to pick our battles. Do not draw weaponry until we know our lives are in danger,” Kratos advised. “The group will advance and surround and, ultimately, overpower us. We need to save our energy for negotiations and openings, not immediately weaken ourselves for the sake of pride and blind ambition.”

            “Such sweet words. You melt my heart,” Zelos cooed.

            “Stop being a smartass,” Sheena snapped. “You are not helping anybody right now.”

            Zelos rocked back on his heels and spun around before two stepping from side to side. “What else is new?”

            “So we just… Sit and wait? That’s the big plan?”

            Kratos nodded to Lloyd and he crossed his arms while adopting his idea of an at-ease stance.

            “Oh, come ooon. That’s bogus.” Lloyd slapped both of his palms to his face and let them slide down his cheeks in distress. “This is the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”

            “Agreed,” Sheena huffed.

            Kratos shut his eyes complacently. “If it ends better than the situation in the Fuji Mountains then you will know that you’re wrong.”

            Sheena and Lloyd turned to Zelos at once for backup. Zelos shrugged. “I know you can’t hear it but it’s a _lot_ of people. We’d never win.”

            “We won’t know unless we try,” Lloyd mumbled.

            “Well, you’d be trying without the two of us soo…”

            “Oh shut up,” Sheena snipped. “Fine. Fine then. We’ll just wait. Fine.”

            Zelos looked around the ugly landscape, all jagged rocks and sticky moss trees, and scrunched up his nose. “I wish they’d chosen a better place to surround us in.”

            The words were under her breath, probably just her temper getting the best of her, but he heard them. He’d heard the Lezareno security squad coming at them from all angles, of course he’d hear Sheena’s soft, “I wish they’d chosen a better chosen.” And maybe she didn’t mean it. Maybe she didn’t feel that way.

            But knowing that maybe she didn’t still left room for maybe she did.

            Zelos thought the words might hurt a little more, make his heart wrench or something. They were the sort of words that poked at the bottom of his stomach lining usually, but the physical pang wasn’t there. He missed it.

 

            Those lapses again. He was talking, commenting, taunting, but not really him. Just the mask at work. Like a boy turning the windup key of a cymbal clanging monkey and then leaving the room. The monkey doesn’t know if the boy is there, it just clangs and screeches. A flip here, a flip there. The mask of a monkey, moving in a room with no people. Moving until the Lezareno security council guard came into sight and flanked them. The monkey stopped clanging. The mask slipped away. This was time for action that the mask couldn’t employ.

            A member of the guard caught Zelos’s attention. A striking woman atop of beautifully cared for brown steed. Although she was older than even he was, she reminded him almost of Seles with her sweet face and hard blue eyes framed by pink hair—although her hair was much longer than Seles’s ever was, held back by one singular band that caused stiff, untamed edges to fray and frazzle out. Just a lowly guard, her outfit no different than those around her: leather gauntlets and overshadowing armored chest plates. So why was he so enamored?

            Sheena slammed her elbow into his side.

            Zelos yelped, “Ow!” and slapped his hands over his ribs.

            “Stare a little harder why don’t you? I hear if you keep that up you’ll go blind,” she hissed under her breath as the guard settled into their surrounding positions.

            Zelos glared. “I think you’re mistaking what happens if I stare while doing something a little more rhythmic with my hands and Zelos junior.”

            “Guys!”

            Lloyd’s firm whisper dragged the twos’ attention to the leader of the guard. Or at least who Zelos assumed was the leader, judging by the nice garb and radiating, irreprehensible ego. He sat atop a large white horse. This was the kind of imagery Zelos could look back on later and laugh at the poetry of it all. The horse stomped the ground after a goading ankle to the back hind.

            Did this schmuck just do the equine equivalent of snapping his fingers at them? Zelos shoved his hands into his pocket to stop himself from giving a middle fingered salute.

            Kratos stood front and center for them. His hands closed around his weapon but with the open stance attempt to stay relatively harmless looking. (At least as harmless looking as Kratos could look while working with a permanently scowling face.)

            “I think there’s been a misunderstanding as to the identity of our party,” Kratos began.

            The captain of the guard sniffed and rolled his eyes to the side. “You all have traveled from the temple of darkness. We have various reports to confirm this.”

            Kratos nodded. “And we do not deny this traveled path.”

            “Then you do not deny you destroyed the equipment within the Lezareno facility?” The captain leaned forward.

            Zelos’s hand started slipping for his dagger. Sheena quickly put her hand over his and he remembered vaguely touching her so many moons ago after waking up from the attempt. Remembered her to be warm and lovely. He couldn’t feel the warmth now. Just a robotic sense of touch through layers of numbed nerves. It stilled his reach for the weapon.

            “Negotiate. That’s his plan,” she whispered, terse. Her lips were in a tight line, her cheeks puffed out like all the hot air in that head of hers was ready to come bursting out, but her eyes were firm. She didn’t have to like the plan but they had to follow it through. He couldn’t fuck this up. “Let Kratos handle it.”

            Zelos nodded and brought his attention back to Kratos and the guard captain.

            “We did,” Kratos admitted. “We are on a pilgrima—“

            “And by that confession we hereby arrest you in the name of Lezareno and Duke Bryant for the destruction of church mandated equipment—“

            “Don’t cut him off!” Lloyd barked. “We’re on a pilgrimage by the church of Martel! How can you people just—“

            “—along with the trespassing and disabling of facilitated ruin rehabilitation efforts—“

            “This is ridiculous! Damnit!” Lloyd drew his swords.

            Sheena gasped. “So much for the plan, hunny!” Zelos pushed her hand away and drew his sword.

            Duke Bryant wasn’t an idiot. Sure, he inherited that fortune and status but Zelos wasn’t one to judge. He was in that same boat and that certainly didn’t make _him_ stupid so why would he expect that of Bryant. Bryant was a delegator, a manager, _el president._ Would it have been stupid to expect him to have a company guard led by somebody who second-guessed themselves and their actions? Yes. Yes, it absolutely would have been.

            Consequently, that was just what they expected—an incompetent captain.

            The guard captain drew his sword just as fast as Lloyd—sent his blade into Kratos’s gut while the mercenary had his back turned to scold Lloyd and Zelos. Lloyd stopped short and gasped. Zelos froze, felt the numbing again. Felt the wind-up key of the monkey and the mask coming back. Somewhere somebody saying something like, “Dad”, like breath leaving an infant’s lungs. Clang clang, shriek of that wind-up monkey. The mask fastening tight…

            No, no. Not now. He needed action. He didn’t need cruise control, he needed to act on this.

            “Kratos!” Sheena cried out.

            “Captain! We were ordered not to harm or kill, solely to apprehend. Cease your motions at once!”

            She had a strong voice. Zelos hadn’t expected that. When Lloyd rushed forward to support Kratos and Sheena grabbed Zelos’s arm to keep him in place, the beautiful guard had unsaddled and dropped to her feet. She lifted a sword bigger than the entire length of her lower body to the face of her captain. She stared him down, cold and intrusive and strong.

            “Stand down and adopt your duty above that of the pride of your ego.” Her eyes narrowed and she lifted her head. “I will not repeat myself, Captain.”

            “Wow. What a woman,” Zelos breathed. Sheena’s small heel colliding with the toe of his boot in a short tempered stomp was well worth it to see the beautiful guard glance over to him for just a split second.

            The guard captain released the hilt of his sword and forced a smile. “An oversight on my part. Always good to have subordinates who look after their captain. Thank you, Ms. Combatir.”

            She lowered and sheathed her weapon before turning on her heel and approaching Lloyd and Kratos. “I’m sorry for that display,” she murmured. She turned her head and called out into the flock of guards. “I need healers here now!”

            Kratos has since dropped to his knees and, at the promise of healers coming, Lloyd pulled out the offending blade. Kratos grunted and leaned closer into Lloyd’s side. “I am so sorry,” Combatir repeated. She stepped away when the healers approached.

            Sheena stomped again. “Oww!” Zelos sidestepped and spun on the toes of his uninjured foot. “Y’know, if you want me to look at you you’ll just have to stop glaring at me so damn much. And maybe smile a bit more. And also stop hurting me all the time! Maybe then I wouldn’t go looking elsewhere—“

            “Go help heal Kratos, you idiot!” she ordered.

            Go heal Kratos? Get closer to guard member Combatir? Sounded like a plan. Finally Sheena was showing her worth!

            Zelos slid up beside Combatir and began healing Kratos from afar. The chosen turned to her and smiled. She was taller than Sheena, around 5’6”. Sheena was curves and dexterity and flexibility. Combatir was very much a worn soldier, brazed bronze by the sun in her many travels and built up with layers of muscle to keep her robust. She was far from Sheena and far from the women in Meltokio, slums or nobility otherwise. This was a woman of the woods. She was magnificent.

            “Your companion is right.” Combatir’s voice, a soft soprano when not barking orders at her guard captain, broke him out of his fascination. “You do stare quite… Enthusiastically.” Her fine eyebrow twitched down just a bit.

            Zelos smiled and relented with a shrug. “I’ve never found something of such magnificence to gaze upon that rivaled you.”

            “Something.”

            He blinked. “Pardon?”

            “Some _thing_ of such magnificence. Please, do not tell me the chosen thinks of women as things and conquests. I do believe that would be largely damning to my expectations of the teachings of the church.”

            “You’ll find a lot of aspects of the church are expectation damning, hunny. I’m afraid I’m only the personification of a broken system.”

            She was smirking when he looked back to her. “Don’t sell yourself so short. I’m sure you’re not solely the personification of the broken system. You also have terrible lines to sell women. I’ve never heard of anything like that within the church. That seems unique to you. A small disassociation from the church but one that holds you in unique placing, though not one that’s all too positive.”

            “Oh yeah?” Zelos grinned. “Mother always did tell me I was a special snowflake.” He smiled wider.

            “I imagine so—“

            “Combatir. You will be riding with the wounded. We will take the prisoners back to Bryant now.”

            She straightened up and nodded. “Yes, captain!” Combatir turned on her feet and quickly removed herself from Zelos to go ride with Kratos and Lloyd, although not before she shot Zelos one final glance for goodbye’s sake.

            She was splendid.

            He wanted to know every inch of her.

            Sheena kicked the back of his heel. “You’re with me and the captain’s side guard.”

            Zelos wrapped an arm around her shoulder and grinned. “I’m with you, huh?” He waggled his eyebrows at her a record three times before she slammed her palms into his chest and pushed him.

            “Sh-shut up!” Her cheeks went red and she stormed away.

 

            Guess they didn’t teach ‘don’t get flustered by dashing, handsome chosen’s and their charm’ in ninja school either. They’d have to add it along with the breaking out of prison class they also sorely needed.

            Combatir and the rest of the guard had moved them to a nearby erected station used for the transportation of Lezareno cargo. Zelos didn’t remember it ever being there during his trips across Tethe’alla but that had been before the world began draining of mana at an alarming pace. Perhaps Lezareno had taken advantage of the climates to continue expansion. He’d have to ask Bryant to confirm any theories.

            Not that seeing Bryant looked to be a very likely prospect. The guard captain had placed them within the cell five hours prior, no food and just that one toilet. Kratos was a little pallid and low on energy but he wasn’t going to die. Ever the optimist, Zelos had been quick to tell Kratos that, with that nasty hole and blood stain, he’d definitely need to buy new clothes. Maybe this would be an opportunity to wear things that weren’t absolutely hideous. Kratos had shut his eyes to shut him out. Zelos would have felt bad if he wasn’t so suspicious of the guy.

            “Maybe,” Lloyd said, poking the edges of the bars with his foot, “if we run at the bars all at once in one area and squeeze together, they’ll bend to us and we can get through!”

            Kratos groaned. Sheena stared. Zelos doubled over onto his knees and almost puked from the hysterical laughter. Oh, why wasn’t he dead yet? Anything would be better than this.

            Clang clang of that monkey. Watch him flip. Watch him dance. Come back little monkey. Let him rest for a bit.

            The regression never came when he wanted it. Not in the five hours of painful boredom and bickering and the twinges in his bladder when he looked at that toilet. No way in hell though. He refused. He’d die from never pissing, Zelos didn’t give a shit anymore. Let his tombstone read, “Here lies Zelos Wilder. Arrested because his mercenaries broke Lezareno’s toys and then died because they only let them have one toilet. Fuck Duke Bryant.”

            A throat cleared in front of the cell and dragged him out of his cackling. At first he thought it might be Kratos but Kratos only groaned in response, struggling to keep his attention on the entrance of this new person.

            Zelos uncoiled from his fetal position to look past the cell bars and up into the face of a man built from squares. Square jaw, square shoulders, square chest. Square square square. Blue eyes. Blue hair. Blue blue blue. His clothes were black and decidedly depressing. Zelos wondered absently that maybe his wish had been granted. Maybe he died. Hopefully he told somebody what he wanted his tombstone to read before he did. He was sure his idea would really piss off the church.

            “Chosen one,” Duke Regal Bryant greeted as he unlocked the door to the cell. “I’m afraid I must apologize for what has happened thus far. I will continue to apologize by saying the inconveniences have yet to end. I have things I wish to speak to you in private about.”

            Zelos raised an eyebrow. “What? Did we destroy some nightlight testing equipment in the temple?”

            “I would rather discuss this all in private.” He looked at Sheena, Lloyd, and Kratos with distrust.

            “Yeah yeah.” Zelos nodded rapidly. “I getcha. Don’t want to let the girl, the brat, and the cripple in on our schemes. Let’s get to it. Let me sell you my soul, you corporate magnate.” He winked at Regal before wrapping his hand around the larger man’s shoulder. “Your wish is my command.”

            Regal pulled away slowly. He shut the door behind Zelos after he had exited the cell.

            “My first wish is that you please never do that again, chosen.”

            “Zelos!” Sheena exclaimed. “You can’t just go with him!”

            “Yeah! What about us?!” Lloyd demanded.

            Zelos lifted his eyes to the ceiling as he considered it. “Here’s how I look at it, bud.” He smiled. “You have three people. One toilet. He is very rich. Probably has a lot of toilets. Probably cleaned toilets too.”

            He hopped and swung his leg around so his back was to the cell. “I’m with the guy with clean toilets. Seeya, suckers. Don’t think about any running streams!”


	5. Chapter 5

            Duke Bryant’s steps in the hall echoed, controlled in a way that felt petite. For somebody as large as Duke Bryant, he certainly didn’t take up much room.

            A common sight at parties, Duke Bryant had always been a flirt. Well, okay, not a flirt. A flirt painted a picture that Bryant and Zelos were of the same cloth. That wasn’t right at all. But Zelos had watched him over the years, feeling especially drawn to the way Bryant carried himself. There was no grand gusto to attract girls to him and if Bryant didn’t have his status he would still had fans. The guy was inherently noble.

            Regal lived up to the expectation of his name. How many people were so lucky to say that? Well, unless there were many people wandering out there with names like “Asshole” and “Shithead”, the odds were slim.

            Zelos shoved his hands into his pockets as he trailed behind Regal in the hallway. “Sooo… You mind telling me where we’re going?”

            “You don’t treat your traveling party very well.” Regal didn’t even look over his shoulder. Head pointed straight ahead and shoulders squared with finality. The blue version of Kratos with a smoother vernacular.

            “Nah. They’re fine. Don’t worry about it.” Zelos removed a hand from his pocket to wave in the air.

            He quickened his pace to slide up closer to Regal. “So what’s the plan? What do you want to talk about?”

            “I’d prefer we wait to speak in my office.”

            “Then let’s hurry up! We don’t have forever. Life is fleeting even for the angels, Duke!” Zelos slapped a hand on Regal’s shoulder.

            “Please, don’t—”

            “Death is inevitable! Gotta move fast!” Zelos spun on his heel and bounced backwards and away from Regal like a jumping spider. Big leap first then playful little pops for motion. To and fro, little dancing monkey. “You have the savior of the world in your own domain free to question and probe! I’ll be real, most people will never be this lucky. You’ll be a part of history. Or, a bigger part, I might say for a big famous fella like yourself.”

            Regal’s frown deepened and he motioned towards a door in front of them. Zelos bounded through with a grin on his face. As tempting as it was to keep taunting Regal the line was far thinner here than it had ever been with Kratos or Sheena or even Lloyd. What Zelos had to do was act as normal as possible. Regal was a…

            He was about to say a friend. Hah.

            The room was far more inviting than the rest of the building. Warm blues and browns, like Regal needed that Altamira beach with him wherever he went. The desk was large—made sense, seeing as how the duke was pretty big himself—and the chair behind it ornate with decoration. Leather edging and bolted gold pins and cushioned by harpies’ feathers.

            “You always have had such good tastes,” Zelos cooed as he slid behind the desk and into the chair. He made a show of groaning but the plop and spread wasn’t nearly as rewarding as it would have been before the journey. He shut his eyes as he settled. “You won’t believe the last time I sat in an honest to goddess chair.”

            Regal shut the door behind him. No steps away. A shuffle as that broad back settled against the door frame. Why wasn’t he moving?

            Zelos opened his eyes. Regal watched him with the most peculiar expression. Settled lines and melancholy thought wrapped up in a dandy package.      

            “What?”

            “… It’s a very trying journey,” Regal finally said.

            Zelos sputtered out a laugh. “You want to talk travel? That’s what this is about?”

            Regal shook his head. He walked over to the chair on the other side of the desk and sat down. Always unhurried and always calm. Not stoic like Kratos. Kratos was slimy, the sort of quiet in a dark alley that makes you run faster. Something had fucked up Kratos—gave him that ‘there be monsters’ attitude. Kratos was silence at a funeral, Regal was the calm on lazy Sunday mornings. Paternal to the fucking core.

            “I asked you here… Because of many reasons.”

            “This is sounding more and more erotic by the moment,” Zelos purred.

            Regal rolled his eyes. “Chosen, do not.”

            “Well, then start with one reason,” Zelos decided. He tossed a hand in the air and flipped it back and forth. “We’ll run down the list like we’re playing twenty questions.”

            “I’d like to reserve that game for celebrations in Meltokio,” Regal confessed.

            “I’m not going back to Meltokio.” Regal’s eyes widened just a bit. Zelos smirked. “Haven’t you heard? Only angels regenerate the world. And, as it turns out, angels don’t live down the block from the local bakery.”

            “To be fair, neither do you. It’s at least three dozen blocks from your estate to the bakery.”

            Dry as the desert but at least Regal was willing to toss the ball out of his court when Zelos served. Zelos let a scoff of air out of his lungs in appreciation.

            “What does that mean—that you’ll become an angel?”

            Zelos exhaled. “I don’t know, Duke. I guess I just… Become one.”

            “I’m sure you regret not practicing that before now.”

            Zelos blinked. “Practicing what?”

            “Being angelic. It’s never been your strongest suite.” Regal smiled just a bit but shook his head after. “You were in the temple of darkness?”

            Zelos shrugged again. “There was a seal there. Your little security measures were all over the place. We couldn’t get in without some impromptu coliseum roleplay.”

            Regal leaned back. His legs crossed at the ankles and his hand reached up to his chin. “I see.”

            “What the hell are you doing in that place anyway? You want to study darkness? Just shut off the lights in that damn lava lamp of a city of yours for a night and you’ll see it just fine.”

            “Chosen…” Regal turned his gaze to the wall as he considered his words carefully. Zelos couldn’t help the tilt of his head as he watched somebody regard him with strange gentleness. Regal still thought there existed some part in him left to be wounded. Maybe they didn’t know each other as well as he’d thought.

            “Zelos,” Regal decided on instead.

            Zelos’s gut twisted. He smiled to cover the drag of something nasty down his throat.

            “Regal.”

            “I’ve been approached by a party who would be very interested in seeing you meet your death.” Regal turned back to him. “A group known as the Renegades led primarily, it seems to me, to undermine the structural integrity of the church. They hold an intense focus on dismantling the journey of regeneration and the chosen one.”

            “Well…” Zelos was shocked his mouth hadn’t gone dry. “We can’t say they’ve named themselves inappropriately with that kinda rhetoric.”

            Regal nodded, a small smirk twitched his lips at Zelos’s attempt at humor. “I set up protocols at the temple of darkness in hopes of meeting your party.” He made a low, broad gesture around them. “For theatrics I had to go about making a show of not knowing your path. You know how it goes. You’re familiar with theatrics.”

            “I’m familiar.” Zelos sunk further into the chair and tilted his head back. He stared at the ceiling, significantly less impressed with the detailing than he’d been before.

            “You must have known you would be targeted,” Regal’s voice hummed. The words were neutral but there was the slightest intonation, the smallest edge of ‘why are you so surprised?’

            Zelos cleared his throat, crossed his legs, and shrugged. “I’m definitely not astonished by it.”

            When he looked back at the duke, Regal wore a sad smile on his face. “You’re too young for a journey like this.”

            “Oh fuck off.” Zelos uncrossed his legs and stood, pushing out of the chair so it slid back behind him. “Too young? Too old? Nobody in their right mind is made for a journey like this. We are not angels and we’re not meant to be. I am _no_ angel.” He leaned onto the table, weight heavy on his hands. “I shouldn’t be expected to take the news of my planned death gracefully. That’s not youth—that’s common sense. Why don’t you wear this—” Zelos wrapped his fingers around the gold clawing into the skin of his neck “—and pretend my attitude has anything to do with how many birthdays I’ve had.”

            “You planned your own death long before you ever stepped into the first seal. If that’s the reasoning, this journey can only be a long version of that attempt.”

            That smug, sad smile. That stupid, pitying look. The rage bubbled up, spilled over, and burst when it hit the fire.

            Zelos rounded the table, grabbed Regal by the cloth of his black, silk shirt (why did he get to dress so nicely and Zelos was stuck in traveler’s gear—why didn’t he get the choice anymore), and he slammed the duke into the closest wall.

            _BAM!_

            A moment of silence to see that sadness still in Regal’s eyes. Again.

            _BAM!_

            “You don’t get to look at me like that,” he hissed up at him. “You don’t get to tell me I’m a prize for some renegade’s chess game so they can king against a team I’m not apart of and then give me that look. You don’t get to tell me I’m young—you don’t get to look at me like that! Stop looking at me like that!” _BAM!_ “Stop looking at me like that! Nobody asked you to look at me like that!”

            Regal involuntarily coiled up, his eyes shut from the pain. He grunted out, “I’m sorry, Zelos.”

            His grip dropped immediately. Regal almost hit the ground but he caught himself and leaned into the wall—a wall with a nicely sized Regal hole—and his head shook, quiet, as he repeated, “I’m very sorry, Zelos.”

            Zelos stepped back until the back of his knees hit the chair he had just ripped Regal from. He eased into the cushions on the back, flexed his hands until he realized he was tired of feeling cloth on his skin. He removed the gloves quietly, leaned back, and stared up at the ceiling. His thumbs ran over the top of his palms before his let his nails dig into the edges of his cuticles.

            “Don’t be sorry. This has nothing to do with you.”

            Something of a rustle of hair against fabric from the wall Zelos refused to look towards. “It’s alright,” Regal promised. “It never had anything to do with you either.”

            “Don’t.” Zelos laughed. He missed that mask right about now. “Don’t say that.”

            “Now that I know you might beat me up if I do, I should probably listen to you.”

            It was so tasteless—Regal was so fucking tasteless. Zelos leaned forward and laughed. He laughed and he laughed and he wished he could laugh until it hurt but it just was so hollow inside. This was ludicrous. What were they doing? Oh, what was he doing?

            Regal padded over to his chair, the great large one on the other side of the desk, and sat down.

            “The renegades approached me, they wished me to remove the threat of you.” Zelos sunk further into his chair and watched Regal with the remnants of his own bitter smile. “I have no intention of doing anything of the sort.”

            Zelos’s curiosity got the best of him. “Did they offer you any compensation?”

            “If you’re asking for your price listing,” Regal began, almost sounding amused, “I’m afraid to say the worth of your death is not a monetary value.”

            Zelos tossed his hand up in the air. “Oh, then what’s the _point_?”

            “They mostly assumed I would do as they asked upon threat of my life once it was clear that I disagreed with their mission. As I have no kin to speak of, I’m more difficult to threaten.” Regal placed his arms on his desk with the posture of a business man about to give a proposition. “I’ve brought your group in as a farce but once I let you go I am in danger of the organization’s wrath.”

            “You’ve practically got an army, man.” Zelos scoffed. “I think you’ll be okay.”

            “I’d like to join you on your journey.”

            Zelos’s gaze, which had taken to looking about the room in a show of disinterest, snapped back to Regal immediately. “I’m sorry— _what_?”

            Regal put his hands on the table, flat. “I understand that I am a noble but you are familiar with my training in fighting artes. I bring a lot of things to the party. I have a certain prestige that overruns even church affiliation in many circles. I am a skilled cook, even in a camping setting. I find that my healing artes are also something of a positive.”

            “Oh my goddess—you’re serious!” Zelos sputtered a laugh. “You want in on this shit show? Are you an idiot?”

            “I’m afraid being an idiot is not one of my qualifications.”

            “I’m serious, Duke,” Zelos found himself saying. “This isn’t a damn camping trip. You coming along with us isn’t exactly ideal for anybody involved.”

            “I doubt you find much of the journey to be ideal,” Regal had the gall to point out. “What’s one more thing on a long list?”

            Oh, wow. Zelos leaned forward, elbows on knees and hand on face, and laughed. “This is a real proposal, isn’t it?” He chuckled and shook his head. “You do know that I’m not the one calling the shots, right? I have to run this by my keepers.”

            “Your keepers.” Regal raised his eyebrows.

            Zelos flicked his hand out and away from his face dismissively. “You know. The people I’ve been treating like shit that you left in that cell? They’ve kind of been orchestrating everything. I’m a bit of a prop right now.”

            “Then I’ll save my technical skill list and resume for them.” Regal’s expression went firm. “Zelos—”

            “If you call me that in front of them, people will talk.”

            “You look like you haven’t heard that name in a while.”

            Maybe Regal shouldn’t go on the journey. He was far too used to Zelos for his own good. Their circles were too close—Regal remembered a boy. _You’re too young_ , echoed in Zelos’s head. Was he really so young? He felt ages older than he did when they’d left Meltokio. Antiquated and tired like a hoary chest with nothing left inside.

            “It doesn’t suit the journey for me to be a person. But, I mean, it’s never really suited the church for me to be a person.” Zelos smiled and shrugged. “Little chosen things, I guess.”

            “If you don’t want me to go, I am willing to stay here. I only offer because I thought it might help lighten the load. You look ready to collapse under these pressures.” Regal tapped the desk with the back of his knuckle. The sound echoed off the edges of Zelos’s skull and he choked back a shudder. “Regardless of how your group feels, I want this to be your decision. I left them in that cell for a reason.”

            “With only one toilet too. You’re a cruel man, Duke.”

            “Only the cruelest,” Regal agreed, voice laughably firm.

            Zelos grinned. “I think I’m good with it. You make me laugh and everybody else is pretty boring.”

            Regal nodded. “Then I will add comedic skills to my list of qualities.”

 

* * *

 

 

            He’d never felt young. Not at the funerals or even when his baby teeth fell out. Zelos had always been told what to do and how to do it. At the very least he hoped to be told why he needed to do these things. Why go to these parties? How much networking did a prop possibly need to do? He stood at the side of the room with an untouched drink in his hand. Nobody thought much about giving him alcohol. Nobody thought much about treating him as a kid.

            He wasn’t a kid. He was just the chosen.

            “Is that wine?” a voice asked beside him.

            Zelos turned and looked up. Then, once his usually ratio of neck tilting only got him a sight of a large, broad chest, he went ahead and tilted his head back even more to look at Duke Bryant.

            “Yes.”

            Duke Bryant pursed his lips. It was hard to say how old he was. When you have to look up to meet anybody’s gaze, everybody feels so much older. “You haven’t touched it,” he noted.

            Zelos shrugged. “I don’t really like it,” he admitted.

            “It’s not the sort of thing I’d imagine your palette would enjoy,” Bryant concurred. “Has anybody offered you anything else?”

            “No.”

            Bryant paused a moment. He finally kneeled down to make eye contact with Zelos. “Would you like something else?” he asked when they were finally on the same level.

            Zelos blinked. “Would I like something else?”

            Bryant’s expression fluttered from patient to something else and back to patient again. A young Zelos wasn’t skilled enough to catch the motivation behind the gaze and certainly could never guess he’d see it again in his twenties on a journey to regenerate the world.

            “Water?” Regal glanced up towards the refreshments table (another place Zelos couldn’t go to—it was too tall for him) and took a survey of the drinks. “I think there may be some juices. Not all adults drink after all.”

            Zelos couldn’t think of anything to say so he stayed silent.

            “Let’s get water.” Bryant gently took the glass of wine from Zelos’s hand and Zelos let him because, honestly, he had never intended on drinking the sour liquid. It was just something to hold on to. Bryant set the glass onto a surface too high for Zelos to reach before putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder and guiding him to the table. Zelos’s shoulder numbed at the touch of another person—when was the last time he’d been touched? Long before mother died to be sure…

            When they reached the table the waiter gave Bryant a once over and then glanced at Zelos. He said, with enough humor like it was the biggest joke in the world, “What are you doing with The Chosen One, Duke Bryant?”

            “His name is Zelos and he would like a glass of water. Not wine.”

            Under his breath, Regal Bryant whispered to himself, “He’s just a child.”

           


	6. Chapter 6

            Rain in Meltokio before the mana depletion had been disgusting and filled with pollution. No matter what precautions Zelos took, his white pants would always be spotted with stains of dirt and grease. Despite his affinity for brights and whites and lights, he wore brown the day he met Sheena Fujibayashi.

            He couldn’t remember what she wore. On that day, her clothes weren’t important. Outside of the house he’d just spent the night in with a noble woman twenty years his senior, sixteen year old Zelos Wilder watched from the alleyway as Sheena walked through pouring, disgusting Meltokio rain.

            Maybe walked wasn’t the right word. Stumbled, staggered, wandered all fit better. She looked lost, young, and alone. Oh, how his heart had wretched when he realized she was alone.

            Maybe she was crying. He hadn’t been able to tell. He just knew she wasn’t okay.

            He unfastened his umbrella and let it pop open before jogging up to her side. It took Sheena ten seconds too long to realize the rain had stopped under its cover and to look up at Zelos’s face.

            Beautiful then and without a doubt she’d grow into a beautiful woman as well. She stared up with brown eyes, hurt and empty, and said with no feeling at all, “Who are you?”

            For the first time in his life, Zelos had to introduce himself.

            “It doesn’t matter who I am,” he said instead. “You’ve gotta be freezing, sweetheart. Come on. Let’s get you out of this rain. We can talk inside.”

            That might have been the only day they’d ever been honest with one another.

 

* * *

 

 

            “Absolutely not.”

            Zelos groaned and slammed his head into the wall by the cells. Kratos’s arms were crossed as he stood on the other side of the cell. Sheena and Lloyd watched him, obviously exhausted with him by now. Kratos ignored their looks. Seemed like his stubbornness could surpass even the pain of a gut wound.

            Regal frowned on the other side of the cell. “I’ve already received a welcome reception from the Chosen.” Zelos reminded himself that Regal was talking to Kratos and was sure the use of his title had everything to do with that and not because of any fakeness on Regal’s part.

            “The Chosen is not the only member of this party,” Kratos replied.

            “Well,” Zelos spoke up. “I am technically the only necessary one so I think my opinion should be pretty important by now.”

            “You’d think that…” Lloyd said under his breath.

            Zelos lifted his chin up and puffed out his chest. “I heard that. I’d like to remind you that, out of the two of us, I am the one not in a cage right now with one toilet so obviously my planning beats yours.”

            “What’s the problem with Regal coming along?” Sheena asked. “He has connections and he can fight and uhm--…?” She looked over to Regal.

            “I’ve also been told I have a prime timing for humor,” Regal boasted as he finished his resume for her once more.

            “Right. Then we will contact you the very first moment we decide to initiate a comedy tour. The Chosen can headline.” Kratos leaned against the wall. He never took his eyes off of Regal.

            Zelos scoffed. “Hah. Hah.”

            “I don’t believe you’re much in a position to bargain, Mr. …?”

            “Aurion,” Kratos supplemented.

            “Ah. Mr. Aurion.” Regal nodded diplomatically. “Mr. Aurion, I don’t bring any offense but I am curious as to your insistence against my joining the party?”

            “You are famous. You are conspicuous. We are a party of great importance and you have not been briefed or entrusted with the technicalities of this journey.” Kratos’s eyes narrowed. Funny, because Zelos fit all of those descriptors too. “You are a stranger who has attacked and imprisoned us—who put blockades up at known temples in order to trap us. You are similarly insistent to join as I am for you not to join. That alone is suspicious.”

            “Not really.”

            Zelos looked over at Sheena and blinked at her casual shrug.

            “Not really?”

            “You two go way back, right?”

            Regal and Zelos nodded in unison. “Yes.” “Yeah.”

            “Nostalgia. Not so weird.” Sheena shrugged again. “Regal is just some rich guy. He’s weird but I don’t think he means any harm!” she chirped.

            Regal blinked. Zelos snickered.

           “Thank… you…?”

            Lloyd sighed. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea. He has a _lot_ of connections,” he appealed to his brother.

            “You can bargain all you want but here’s what I say.” Zelos strutted over to the spot just parallel to Kratos on the other side of the cell. He leaned against the bars and let his hands hang against metal. Always in good practice, Zelos flashed his best, most obnoxious, shit-eating grin. “He has the keys to the cell. He only lets you out if you agree to let him join. I like him, so he’s going to come. Whether you come with us is up to you.”

            Kratos stared him down. If Zelos hadn’t been so used to being glared at, it could have actually done some damage. But that wasn’t the case. Finally Kratos pushed himself off the wall. “This is not a field trip,” he growled.

            “But we’ve been having _so much fun_!” Zelos chirped.

            “Fine. He can come.” Kratos walked over to the cell door. “Open the cell and we will leave.”

 

 

            The addition of Regal came with better food, less weight to carry, shorter battles, better healing, and quicker travel. Sheena took to Regal fairly quickly. It was hard not to. The man had always had a reputation for charming women. Seemed Sheena appreciated his flattery more than Zelos’s commentary.

            Kratos despised him. Every open comment from Regal was met with disdain. Not always did it garner a comment but it definitely always received an appropriate sneer. Lloyd, in turn, kept his distance. Once Zelos realized that staying close to Regal meant less time with the brothers, he found himself constantly tailing along behind him. Smarter, more refined, and a better conversationalist, Regal was a breath of fresh air to the rough, brash brothers.

            He took care of business gracefully, got the boat for travel to Volt’s temple without any issues at all. He even tipped the captain so much he’d never need to ferry anybody else as long as he lived.

            Sheena didn’t eat dinner the first night on the boat. Zelos noted it immediately. Lloyd and Kratos had further separated themselves and Regal was talking to the captain and sharing recipes with the ship’s cook and Sheena was alone and staring at the ocean.

            “It should be illegal for somebody as pretty as you to make a frown so ugly,” Zelos made himself known as he slid up beside her along the railing. Anything to distract from pretending to eat was a welcome reprieve.

            Sheena glanced over at him and gave a half-hearted, “Shut up,” under her breath before looking back on the water.

            “You remember when we met?” he asked.

            It was a moment before she managed a nod.

            “Me too.” Zelos looked out on the waves. “It’s a sweet load of hypocrisy from me to tell you not to blame yourself for things you can’t control. An even sweeter one for me to tell you to look on the bright side of life and say some shit like it’s going to be better or different or whatever. Because I know that you’re not thinking about the future. You’re still stuck on the past.”

            She smirked. It didn’t come close to reaching her eyes.

            “You’re being pretty vague about it.”

            Zelos turned and leaned back on the railing. Sheena glanced him over, double checking his posture as usual to make sure he didn’t fall off or hurt himself just for the sake of his poses. He tilted his head and smiled at her. “You inviting me to be blunt?”

            “I prefer it to you trying to be sensitive. You’re not very good at it.” Sheena sniffed and looked back at the water. “Being sensitive, I mean.”

            “I guess I just have a soft spot for orphans.” Sheena winced at that. “No matter how they got that way… Your parents were—”

            “My parents were thieves,” she snapped. “Who died trying to destroy what little there was they had to be responsible for.” Zelos crossed his arms and watched the fury behind her eyes, listened to the battle drum of her heart in her chest as her jaw tightened. “Some summoners they turned out to be. The chief was in the right to do what he did to them. They should be considered lucky that he took me in at all—me being as tainted by my heritage as I am.”

            “Tainted, huh?”

            “Don’t give me that.” She shot a glare at him. He faked a wince and she slapped his arm for good measure. He knew a play hit from a real one, even with his senses as fucked as they were. He made a note to dial back when she nailed him with a real one.

            Sheena stared back out to the waves. “They were so afraid of being needed… Couldn’t handle even the possibility of responsibility or accountability or whatever. They went to that temple—they left me at the opening and they went in and just tore it apart. Chief found me and he took me in. The ninjas dealt with my parents in the way they were meant to. It was their job to do so, ordained by the church.”

            “Yeah, well, I think you and I both know that even the worst parents in the world still have a way of making you feel something here and there.”

            Air left her lips in a soft gust. “They just left me outside in the wilderness… I was lucky to be found at all.”

            “Yeah.”

            “I was just a baby. A bird could have carried me away!” She reeled on him in anger. Zelos lifted his hands in surrender and nodded.

            “It sure could have.”

            “But… it didn’t.” Sheena deflated. She mirrored his pose, though kept a bit more slouched than he. “So…”

            “We won’t be there long,” Zelos reminded. “Just long enough for me to do my angel shpeel. Easy peasy. You don’t need to even go in if you don’t want to.”

            Realization struck. “Hey, you haven’t eaten.” She gasped. “Oh shoot! Neither have I. I’ll be right back.”

            Even after calling after her, she still jogged away and under the ship to get their food.

            Zelos groaned and spun around to let his head hang over the railing. “Son of a bitch…”

            She returned with two plates of fish and fruit. “You like fish, right?” Sheena held it out with a smile. “Yeah, you love it, right? I remember you always going for it when you dragged me to those parties.”

            Zelos scrunched his nose up. “It’s fine.” He took the plate and played with the fork. She watched him with expectant, raised eyebrows.

            “You don’t want it?”

            “I didn’t say that!” Zelos laughed. “I’ve had the plate for two seconds. Give me another few before I dig right in!”

            “Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on with you?”

            Her tone was suddenly serious. More than when she’d been talking about Volt’s Temple.

            He grinned. “In general or what? Cause if you want an overview we may need to take a longer boat ride.”

            “Shut up.” Her eyes narrowed. Her feet planted. She was ready for a fight. “You know what I mean. You’ve been acting really weird—weird for even you. You’ll go hours in this weird haze. I feel like I’m talking to a robot. You don’t eat like you used to. You don’t drink unless forced. You don’t sleep—”

            “Excuse you! I do too sleep!”

            “Stop lying to me, you moron!” Sheena pointed her finger in his face. “You’re not eating like you should for this journey. You never shut up about Regal’s cooking before this started and he’s here now and you’re dancing around it hoping I’ll forget but I’m not as stupid as you are. Stop lying to me, Zelos. I mean it. What’s going on with you?”

            Zelos rolled his eyes. “Nothing is wrong with me.” He took a bite of the fish, smiled triumphantly, and swallowed. “See?” He grinned. “Delicious! Yum! Good thing Regal is here! Sooo good! He can really grill them, y’know what I’m saying or what?” He let out a great big obnoxious laugh so she felt especially stupid for testing him.

            “That fish was raw.”

            Fuck.

            “What are you—What?”

            He looked down at his plate. It hadn’t _looked_ raw. Was she fucking with him?

            Under the disguise of a skin of cooked fish, Sheena had put slices of raw fish filets. All delicate, all ready to be speared, but sure enough they were all raw. And, since he hadn’t looked closely enough, he’d managed to eat a great big chunk of raw fish when he’d speared a chunk from the plate.

            “Sheena, what the hell is this?” He threw the fish over the side of the ship. “What the fuck are you thinking?”

            “What am I thinking?!” She slapped him. Another real hit. His head jerked to the side from the force. “I’m thinking you’re lying to me! Something’s going on with you and you won’t tell me but you couldn’t even tell that fish was raw! You used to complain constantly about the way I cook and after one seal you just stopped! Lloyd would cook and you’d say something vague, and sometimes you’d still get it wrong. You’re a good liar.” When he finally looked back at her, her face had softened. “You’re a really good liar, Zelos. Always have been… But you’re not that good. Nobody is that good. How much can you feel?”

            “Sheena, this is ridiculous—”

            “Stop it. Stop it and just tell me. For once in your life just be honest with me.”

            She reached up, took his chin in her hand, and forced him to look at her. “Tell me what this journey is doing to you.”

            He yanked away. “You know what it’s doing.”

            “I know that it’s turning you into an angel! I know that you go into some temple here and there and some nasty woman floats down and spews some bullshit at you and you get glassy eyed and it’s like you’re gone and then you’re back again— _maybe_! Maybe you’re back again! I don’t know how much of you is left in there. I want to say all of you, but I think that’d be a lie.”

            “Gabriela is not—”

            “Gabriela is your mother’s twin. You wouldn’t know anything about how she really is, you’re too blinded by that.”

            _Shut up shut up shut up!_

He grabbed her by the arm and slammed her up against the railing. Her plate of food clattered to the floor. “I’m not having this conversation with you,” he hissed.

            Sheena gasped down towards the water, now bent over the rail. His grip tightened, fingers closed together, and Sheena turned and spit over her shoulder at his face.

            “No journey in all of Tethe’alla could turn a creep like you into an angel.”

            Zelos let go.

            “Maybe that’s what it is, huh?” he smiled and leaned back up against the railing. He was so tired. So, so tired… “Maybe everything is breaking because I’m just not angel material… Maybe my body’s rejecting it?” He laughed. “Only reason I’m born is to be the chosen and I can’t even do that right. What a joke.”

            Sheena sighed as she straightened up. “Zelos…”

            “I can’t feel anything really. I mean, kind of, but it’s foggy. Just enough to know what’s what, but feeling—really feeling… That’s gone. So is taste. Smell too. And sleeping. I dunno what else… I mean, I kind of do? I just feel really doped up…” Now that the floodgates had been unlocked the words spilled out like nothing. Felt like the ocean had been replaced by sand. Some village dying of thirst because of his emotional inhibitions. “Sometimes I’m here. Sometimes I’m not. I don’t know why it happens. It’s like checking out for a while and then I’ll come back and we’ll be at the seal or we’ll be at the cells… Y’know, whatever… So sometimes I eat raw fish… Whatever.”

            Sheena stepped forward, almost like going for a hug. Her heart sped in her chest.

            “Like, right now,” Zelos murmured, “I can hear your heart beat.” He reached forward to put his hand atop her breast. Sheena froze under his touch. He quietly tapped his fingers along to the pulse. It quickened and quickened and quickened until it slowed into a calm. She stared up at him until his hand slid away. Then she looked to the water.

            “So I guess this is just… Me now,” he mumbled.

            Zelos turned away. “I’m going under deck. Sorry about your dinner.” And he headed for the sleeping quarters in hopes that the monkey would come back out and save him from the boredom of the sea without sleep to help pass the toiling hours away.

            Sheena let him leave without a word.

 

 

            Dancing monkey through the temple. Dancing monkey through the quips and comments. Dancing monkey through the fight. Dancing monkey through the prayers.

            Dance monkey dance.

           

            Gabriela is beautiful. _A twin of your mother._ She smiles down at him and takes another part of his heart. This one hurts more than anything before and comes from the muscle of his throat. Before he’s gone he’s down on his knees and crying in the white space.

            He wants to beg for death but he can’t say a word.

            Gabriela brings him back to reality.

           

 

 

            Dance monkey… Dance…

            While you can.

 

 

            “Zelos? Zelos, you okay?”

            “C’mon.” A small shake to his side to accompany the softness in Sheena’s voice. “C’mon. Wake up. We’re not done with this yet.”

            His eyes cracked open. Kratos stood furthest away from him, Lloyd sat closest. Sheena’s hand lingered on Zelos’s bicep and Regal… Regal was holding him up?

            What happened?

            He opened his mouth to ask.

            What happened?

            His vocal cords sat, frozen, taunt, useless.

            _What happened?_

            Panic seized, eyes widened. Where was his voice? Where were his words?

            He snapped up to his full height, shoved Regal back as quick as he could. What happened what happened what happened oh goddess what happened not this not this anything else but this he needed this what happened oh no oh _no--_

            “Whoah whoah!” Sheena took a step back, her hand on Lloyd now to pull him with her. In the back of his mind Zelos took note of her pupil dilation. Her clamminess. Her fear. Her quick beating heart. He took note of Lloyd’s confusion. His slow to move pull back. His absolute inability to understand what was happening oh what was happening what happened what happened!?

            “Chosen one, calm down.” Kratos stepped in front of Lloyd and Sheena. Heartbeat strong and no fear. He knew. He knew.

            Zelos reached up and clawed at that stupid fucking crystal and that stupid fucking crest. Get it out of his throat—away from his voice.

            Kratos nearly snarled. “Stop that.”

            Mouth opened to release a roar inside that was muffled and broken. How could panic be so insurmountable, so all-encompassing, and yet his body the strongest and most worthless it had ever been? He hunched over, still clawing, get it OUT he wanted it OUT he never wanted this he never wanted this!

            Continuing wasn’t worth it. Going back was impossible.

            Zelos dropped to his knees. His fingers clawed unfeeling into the skin of his useless throat, dug deep into muscle and tore through skin until the blood stank the air with its iron and humanity. He still bled. He still lived. How long would he be able to say that?

            “Chosen one, stop this at once. You knew what this journey entailed—”

            “Kratos,” Regal snapped, “Shut up. You’re being far more useless than he could ever hope to be.”

            Regal’s hand pressed onto Zelos’s back once more. “Zelos, stand up,” he urged.

            No. No. No.

            His head shook. His fingers dug deeper. He whipped his hands away from his throat to tear off his gloves with his teeth. He threw them aside, tired of the gap between what was left of his senses and his skin. Tired of having the pathetic ounces of the humanity he barely ever had before hindered by appearances. There was no use for appearances now. His fingers dug deep into his throat and spider danced up to the back of his neck to tear deep into the skin under his hair line. Deep enough and he could gauge out his brain. Deep enough and maybe he could rock his sense back and come back to life. Deep enough and maybe he’d be human again, or as human as he ever was.

            He could vaguely hear the soft, “Zelos…” from Sheena somewhere. Vaguely… That was a joke marred by panic and distortion and fear. He heard it perfectly. He heard everything so perfectly. Heard every drop of pity and fear and disappointment. Why hadn’t he been able to just kill himself? How could he be so useless that he couldn’t even end his own life? Why did Martel hate him so much to put him through this torture? Why why why _why_ —

            “You don’t want to move,” Regal’s voice had softened even more. Not a question or an order. “… That’s alright. We’ll sit here, with you, until you’re ready to stand again. Then we’ll stand with you. When you’re ready.” His voice turned away from Zelos and pointed in Kratos’s direction. “But only when _you’re_ ready.”

            Ready to move on? So this journey could rip another part of him out and claw into it with iron fury built for armies he didn’t side with? He’d never be ready. He hadn’t been ready at the first seal, hadn’t been ready when his father died and made him the acting chosen, wasn’t ready when his mother died and wasn’t ready now. He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t do this.

            No matter how many times he tried to make the shapes, no sound came out. It occurred in his mind—which somehow still worked under the destruction of all the other parts of him, though he didn’t want to think on how long it might be until that was taken as well—that he could mouth his words. He could make something known. He just had to look at them again.

            His body jolted into a shudder and then tensed into rod-stiffness when he felt Sheena plop down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. He somehow managed to take his rigidity a step further when he heard the shuffle of Lloyd settling at her side. He gave Zelos a pat on the back but removed his hand before Zelos could adjust to the feeling. Regal’s hand stayed on his back along his shoulder blade and rubbed wide circles into metal muscles. Zelos’s fingers stilled around the meat of his neck—so easy to rip out his own throat if only he could stop shaking long enough to get the grip—

            “Regal’s right. We’ll sit here for a while,” Lloyd announced plainly.

            “Good to see you’re starting to agree with me,” Regal couldn’t help but counter.

            Sheena leaned forward, her heart pumping faster—she smelled like woods and lilac and softness and—she whispered in his ear, “You’re scaring me,” so soft he almost doubted the words. Then she continued, “Can you… Can you stop with the crystal?”

            He turned his head. Her face fogged into obscurity by the matted mass of his hair. She pulled back his bangs and frowned, deep. Her heart beat so fast, sixteenth notes at high speed. She truly was terrified of him…

            “Zelos… C’mon.” She forced a smile, swallowed back something that made her throat softly galumph, and then—“We don’t have to go anywhere. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself anymore, alright?”

            Did she get it? She couldn’t possibly get it. She didn’t know what he’d lost, she couldn’t smile at him and know.

            Or maybe that was the truth of it. The happiness of knowing she didn’t have to listen to him anymore or his quips and comments. Zelos Wilder losing his voice was the best thing that could ever happen to everybody around him. Of course she was smiling. Of course.

            “Hey, what’s with that face?” Her eyebrows pulled together. “We don’t have to go anywhere. It’s alright.” She rubbed into his shoulder. He pulled away, fast, and fell slightly into Regal. The duke grunted but managed in dignity as Zelos struggled to straighten up. He mumbled something about it being alright.

            It wasn’t alright! _It wasn’t alright at all_!

            He learned to speak alarmingly young. It was credence to how smart he was, how he was destined to smooth talk and run the lines of politics. He would be a gifted public speaker, like his father, and a great chosen to boot. He would be charming and kind and eloquent.

            He ended up being none of those things, had used his tongue for schemes and biting comments and starting fires for other people to put out. He used his tongue to coax women into beds and then lick them inside and out, telling them they were his world all while never having to speak their names (a good trick for somebody who had never made much of a habit of remembering names). His lips created mountains in school, put him at the very top of a class in which he barely studied any of the curriculum. His words were his weapons, made stronger than the steel of the dagger at his side and the metal of the shield he pulled over his heart in the heat of battle. Without his vernacular he was without his greatest strength.

            He was finally, truly, worthless.

            Sheena whipped around to look at Kratos. “What did this one do to him?” she demanded. “What is this journey doing to him!?”

            “I don’t understand why you’re looking to me for answers—”

            “She looks to you because you clearly know more than you let on. Only a fool would assume any differently.” Zelos managed to look at Lloyd just in time to see the wince from Regal’s words. “What happened at the seal?”

            Kratos’s nose scrunched and he crossed his arms over his chest. “He has yet to speak. I assume it has something to do with that, since I’ve never seen an instance where he didn’t have something to blabber on incessantly about.”

            “He can’t _speak_?”

            The horror in Sheena’s words ricocheted Zelos’s gaze back to her. She stared at Kratos, doubt in every pore. Dilation of true terror in those wide brown eyes like she’d just come face to face with the greatest enemy of her life.

            When she finally looked at him, those brown eyes were clouded by a veneer of tears.

            “You…” The one word shook. She stopped short of saying anything else.

            “How long does this last?” Lloyd asked Kratos. “Do you know?”

            “I assume until he finishes the process. Gabriela is an angel and she speaks coherently. This is a process, not an absolution.” His head turned to the mountain side, as though there could possibly be anything interesting there along the wooded line. “Or a… damnation.”

            _What a fucking liar._

            “So he’ll get better?” Sheena hoped out loud.

            What a telling silence from the liar. Maybe Zelos didn’t need to speak. Kratos barely spoke and he articulated his terrible fucking personality to award winning lengths.

            “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I only assume.”

            Sheena looked back at Zelos and suddenly both of her hands were on his shoulders. She patted them, awkward, and smiled at him. With a sniff, she said, “See? You’re okay. You’ll be just fine.” Another pat. “You can get back to annoying me in no time.” An attempt at a bigger smile. Oh, she looked ridiculous. His heart ached.

            Another sniff. Another pat. “That’s why you freaked out like you did, huh? You just wanted to give me more crap. Can’t do it now, huh?” She laughed. _Oh, Sheena_. “You’re okay. You’re _okay._ ” She made a move like she might just be thinking of hugging him but pulled back further just in case. Her heart beat quickened again. Her cheeks flushed. “You’re just fine. You’re okay.”

            Oh, Sheena. He’d never been okay.

            Oh, Sheena…

            “We should set up camp here. The seals exhaust you anyway and it’s best to settle before the sun sets. There’s no point in traveling and this area is open. We’ll be okay,” Regal voiced.

            “Kratos and I can ready everything.”

            Lloyd stood before he even finished the offer. His movements were swift, suddenly akin to his brother in ways he hadn’t been before, and he walked with purpose to Kratos’s segregated position on the edge of the wood. “We’ll need firewood,” Lloyd spat over his shoulder without stopping and, quietly, Kratos followed his younger brother into the woods to gather supplies.

            “We should leave them here.” Sheena ran a hand over Zelos’s hair. She sniffed again before pulling her hands away. Her nose rubbed into the edge of her glove sleeve—a huffy, embarrassed puppy move. “We’d probably be better off.”

            Zelos opened his mouth to shoot off a, ‘what have I been saying this entire time?’ but his instincts only managed half way through the sentence before he remembered there was nothing inside of him to say it with. His hands edged up to his neck again and Sheena jerked her hands fully back.

            “Enough of that,” Regal murmured. He pulled the hands away dutifully and, in a haze, Zelos’s brain flooded with images of Sebastian helping him into bed on nights he was too drunk to stand. Sebastian whispering, “That’s not true,” when Zelos apologized for being awful and embarrassing and genuinely broken. Sebastian pulling off his gloves and the headband and clearing his forehead of sweat, even onwards after the drunken mass mistakenly called him ‘dad’. Sebastian… Sebastian…

            “Sebastian?” Sheena’s voice was colored confused.

            Hope flooded his every vein. Had he spoke? Had he finally—

            “You’re mouthing Sebastian,” Sheena clarified. She frowned when he deflated. Mouthing. Just shadows of what he needed. “What about him?”

            Zelos shook his head. Sebastian was rotting in a cell because of him. It was bad tastes to miss him, especially like this.

            “Sebastian was your father’s butler as well,” Regal said, thoughtful. “And Sebastian’s father before him also worked for the Wilder estate, if I remember correctly. Our help lives on as long as we do. The nobility is without skill and worth in exceptionality of those we hire to conduct skilled labors. It’s only through them that we can do anything abnormal because they take upon themselves the monotony we’ve turned our noses up to—am I boring you?”

            Zelos blinked and smiled absent mindedly. He nodded simply, no shame in hiding what the glazed look in his eyes had given away. Sheena laughed softly and she stood up.

            “C’mon, tough guy.” She held her hand out to him. “Let’s go pick a spot for camp and you can lie down.”

            Zelos took her cloaked hand but he stopped just short of standing up off the ground and rocked back onto his heels. The cloth under his hand, that soft lilac colored glove, scuffled under the retreat of his grip.

            Those stupid gloves.

            Zelos was so tired of barriers.

            He reached up and tore her glove off swiftly. Sheena gasped, and the air sputtered out of her like a train struggling to chug along a track. Under his fingers the blood quickened its pace in her veins. When he looked up at her, her cheeks had turned bright red and her almond eyes were wide as could be.

            He pocketed the gloves, put their palms together, and finally stood.

            “O-okay. Okay.” She nodded a few times, put her other hand on his waist, and helped him stand. “No gloves? Okay.” She nodded again. “I can do that. We can do that.” She smiled up at him. “It’s new. It’s kind of nice.”

            What a try hard. Oh, Sheena.

            She stepped slow at first. Being treated so gently made him want to scoff but he still scuffled, still fell against her at the step only inches from where they started. Sheena adjusted underneath him. “We’re okay.” She reached up her hand, the one not settling against the squareness of his hip, and grabbed his right palm.

            “You’re so tall. Get shorter,” she ordered under her breath as they stepped together once more.

            “Do you want some help?” Regal asked behind them.

            Zelos didn’t have enough time to look over his shoulder before Sheena blurted, “No. I have this.” She stepped forward with him again and he concentrated harder to keep the pace with her. Her muscles flexed under his touch and she continued along. Sheena shouldered his weight as though he were nothing. He’d have been embarrassed by needing the help if he wasn’t so impressed.

            She lowered him beside a tree on the inside of the wooded edge. They were out of the way of the path but still away from the dangers in the woods. Zelos’s body tightened. Instead of an instinctual grunt or a pained moan, he could only let his lungs freeze and release. Muted pain hurt so much more, he found.

            “You okay?” Sheena’s hand pressed into his cheek. “Zelos?”

            Where did she go? Where did she…

            “Look at me. Just like at the last seal okay? C’mon.”

            Fog and pain and his eyelids were heavy and his head pounding. Somewhere above him came the scream of some sort of movement. Somebody was in the tree!

            He rolled away from Sheena and pulled out his sword. His hand shook as he pointed upward at the assassin. A vile, vicious mercenary no doubt—

            On a branch above him, a small caterpillar loudly chewed on the meat of a leaf.

            A bug?

            His eyebrows pulled together. His strength gave out and he released the sword. Sheena was quick enough to grab it before the blade could cut into him and she tossed it aside. “Calm down!” she scowled. “We’re here. If anything is going to hurt you, we’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of it.” She hoisted him back up against the tree.

            _So loud. Why was everything so off?_

            Sheena paused her actions and watched him.

            “Do that again.”

            Zelos’s head lolled back to her voice and he finally pushed the fog away to see her. How had he missed her before? There she was. Pores and flickers of gold in brown eyes and little patches of eyebrow hairs longer than others and some peach fuzz on the apples of her coral cheeks and the veins in her eyes and—

            “Mouth it again, Zelos.”

            _So loud._

            Sheena blinked and pulled away to look back up at the tree. It took her a moment but she spotted the bug.

            “You freaked out because of that bug?” She looked back at him. He nodded.

            “You can hear that bug?”

            He nodded again.

            Her expression softened. “Your senses are all messed up right now, huh?”

            _Yes._

            She reached up to pull his hair from his face. “I can’t imagine,” she admitted. “I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now…”

            _It hurts._

            He looked away from her and to the ground. What an understatement. The world was using him as a punching bag and he could only just mouth ‘it hurts’? It did more than hurt. It was excruciating.

            She sidled up and settled into the nook by his side, jolting him back into reality. “I know we don’t always… get… along very well…” The words staggered and hit in a weird cadence as she considered the best way to phrase her thoughts. Her lips shaped inward into an exaggerated frown. “I yell at you a lot and you do some gross stuff sometimes… You say some really terrible things, Zelos. I don’t…” She shook her head. “I don’t know why. I know you don’t hate me. I’ve seen you when you hate people… I think you think I hate you though.” Another shake. “I don’t hate you. I don’t hate you at all.”

            Had his heart stopped? What was she doing? What was she talking about? His stomach lodged into the thickness of his throat. What the fuck, Sheena?

            “I came on the journey because Mizuho wanted somebody to overlook and oversee… They wanted somebody they could trust to assure the Chosen finished the journey and saved the world. There’s so much talk about the danger—about how people who benefit from the mana depletion would go so far as to kill the Chosen—to kill _you_.”

            She wrapped her arms around herself. If he was young, she was just a kid. “I don’t want you to die.”

            Sheena pulled away suddenly and stared up at him, eyes blaring and indignant. “I don’t! I came here because I wanted to protect you! I didn’t want you to be in pain, I thought the journey would make you an angel. I thought it would make you strong and you could save the world and you would finally feel good—finally realize how good you are—and that things would work out for the best! The mana would be restored, you’d be alive, and you’d be happy! And it’s not happening that way!” Tears budded. “You told me you can’t eat, you can’t sleep, you can’t feel, and now you can’t speak? I didn’t want this! I never wanted this!”

            Sheena’s head whipped away, indignant. She glared off into the woods while her hands made quick work of wiping away the falling tears.

            He pushed himself from the tree slowly, carefully, and eased down onto the ground.

            “What are you doing?”

            Zelos adjusted and rested his head on her lap. She froze underneath him but only for a moment before she recognized the new task in front of her. Sheena ran her hand over his hair, careful not to tug too hard on the areas that had matted and tangled during battle and travel.

            Finally she said, “I think we should stop in a town soon… Somewhere more comfortable than this…” Her fingers spun at the ends of his red curls. “We just can’t keep doing this journey. We can’t take you to the next seal like this.” Sheena rubbed his shoulder and then whispered, “I can’t take you anywhere while you’re like this…”

            Though he didn’t sleep, he felt the mask slide into place for him and his true self retreat into what was left of his subconscious. The batteries in the monkey with the cymbals was going dead. He didn’t remember doing anything but letting Sheena play with his hair.

            Regal settled near Sheena, his hand now rubbing into Zelos’s shoulder, span broad. Zelos vaguely remembered flinching at the touch. Regal stopped for a moment and slowed the comforting gestures but he didn’t retreat. He said something about catatonia and trauma coping mechanisms to Sheena.

            Sheena had to stop with his hair to wipe tears from her eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

            Father’s affair hadn’t been a sad thing. Father, though, had been pitiful. A constant eye-hooded gaze shaded with a gleam of tears and a voice that eased in and out like an old ocean tide. His love for the other woman spanned over many years, before even marrying Mother, back when Father spent his time lurking in the hallways of one of those research towns. The kind of place that ran rampant with half-elves.

            Zelos had never liked him, this man who looked at Zelos like he was the newest store trend—destined to become tossed aside and remembered with disdain, who thought the way to ease the pain was to throw Zelos aside immediately instead, and to never regard him at all. His treatment towards his only son made even Mother squirm. When Father slunk the hallways of the manor, usually on a rare reprieve back from visiting his mistress, Mother went to Zelos.

            “My little one, why don’t you come with me into the garden? You can show me your favorite roses.”

            And he’d always shine a great big grin, missing teeth and messy like all children’s sunny smiles, and drag her out to the garden, hand cloying into the fabric of her skirt because he was so afraid that if he touched her the illusion might go away and she’d be sitting in the window again, staring out and wishing he wasn’t hers. Zelos picked the most beautiful roses every time, handed them over to Mother with gentle admiration, and told her that he was still waiting for a flower as pretty as she was.

            “Patience is good,” she’d murmur in that soft doll voice of hers. “It’s the most important thing you’ll ever learn.”

            It would have been so much easier to think of her in the singular, “You should never have been born,” moment, but so many memories weren’t of that. So many memories were Mother’s tiny steps in the hallways at night, careful not to wake him, and the way the light shined off her eyes when she gave him rare smiles, and how she tugged at his spiral ended hair and whispered, “My little one, you look like something the angels dreamed up…” And he’d never really thought about the second part until later, had never really understood until after she was long dead and he was slowly emptied piece by piece by the world what she meant by, “My little one, you look like something the angels dreamed up and the monsters filled up.”

            She was the one who told him when Father died. She was the one who told him about Seles.

            He came home from schooling, accompanied by Sebastian. When he walked through the door, Mother motioned Sebastian away with the click against her teeth and a swipe of her arm towards the other room. Sebastian obeyed immediately, left the two Wilders to each other.

            She knelt down to make eye contact. Being eight then, Zelos prided himself on being very mature. He could handle anything. He braced himself. Mother didn’t just greet him anymore. Something must have happened.

            Mother’s hands busied with a single rose. She held it out and pressed it into his palms, the thorn edges prickling into the wrinkles and hills of his hands. (On his hand now, he still had little dotted scars along the fat of his grip from her pricking insistences of filling him with roses, as though she always thought of him as an intangible thing who could never be hurt by something as simple as botanicals.) She turned his hand over after he gripped it, jaw tight, eyes expecting.

            “Your father is dead.”

            She’d said the words as simply as somebody might say the sun had set, the clouds had parted, dinner was ready, the world yet turned. She lifted her eyes as her soft, bird coo of a voice trailed away and watched him. She waited.

            Zelos said, “What?” because surely the death of Father deserved a little bit of shaking in the voice. Even if he had been all of the things he’d been (neglectful, resentful, pathetic) he was still a part of Zelos.

            “He saw it fit to kill himself.”

            People could do that? Zelos had never considered it before. Eight year olds seldom really ever thought of death in such a way. A controllable way that ended and began instances. Death was the thing that happened to the old and the brave in battle. Death hadn’t been tainted by the idea of embarrassing accidents or emotional lapses.

            “Why would he do that?” Zelos had asked.

            “Because he was weak.”

            Never leaving her kneeling position, like she might leave him at any second to go off and float around the home like she always did, Mother told him about the other family. He had always known but had never heard the words spoken so plainly.

            “He could not deal with the weight of not having everything, so he lost everything instead. He will never raise his daughter now.” She sniffed, like she was allergic to Father even in conversation. “If anybody needed him, little one, it would have been her.”

            Mother stood then and made a move to turn away.

            Zelos’s fists clenched and he yelled, tearful, “What if I needed him?” at her back. “What good does your patience do now that he’s _dead_?”

            Mother froze.

            “Why couldn’t he have been here? Stayed _here_? Just long enough so that I—I could have figured out how to make him happy! I needed him! I-I—” A little boy’s tears, still too young to know how to dam them and old enough to know that he should. His chest shook so much he thought his ribs might split. “People tell me I’m funny! I make them laugh! Make them happy! I could have made him happy! He never let me try!”

            Zelos screamed the words. He’d never screamed before in his life. Mother turned around to look at him with a face that seemed to think him ill. His cheeks went red with embarrassment.

            “Some people can never be happy.” She looked away and Zelos never knew if she’d been speaking to him or herself when she said, “Sometimes living is just accepting that.”

            What about dying? What came with that, Mother?

 

            Regal gave Zelos a notebook to write in to express himself.

            He hated it. By the time he got a quip down, a suggestion written, the conversation had already mulled into something else. If it hadn’t, then he had to write while the others watched him in expectant, judging, silence. Zelos used the notebook maybe twice before tossing it at Regal’s face and continuing on their path to the abbey.

            The abbey… Seeing Seles now… He couldn’t wrap his mind around what it would be like, to see her and say nothing. It was hard enough before when he had an entire vocabulary and then some at his disposal. Hard to speak to somebody he loved so much but knew so little about anymore. He’d let her slip away from him as they’d gotten older. He’d become so rotten and she was already so sick. It felt like giving her poison.

            He thought it was a bad idea, if he was being entirely candid, but he couldn’t keep going like this. Feeling here and yet not. He needed something to keep him going and Seles was near that last seal.

            Don’t think about the seal don’t think about the seal.

            Lloyd suggested seeing Seles. While Regal and Sheena pet him, treating him like this fragile broken thing (Zelos couldn’t refute it, couldn’t pretend there weren’t so many more pieces missing than actually present within him now, and it filled him with rage), Lloyd slipped over and sat down in front of him.

            “We should see your sister next.”

            He spoke directly to Zelos, not an ounce of his behavior different from before, despite Zelos resting his head on Sheena’s lap as weak as a kitten. Lloyd’s young shoulders square, one day he’d grow into his frame but for now he was still painfully boyish, and his jaw jutted out with fierce confidence.

            Just as Sheena said, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Zelos nodded.

            No, it wasn’t a good idea at all, but Zelos didn’t care. He just wanted to see her. If only for a moment he wanted to see her and know that at least one person he was dying for was worth it.

            “Did you run this by Kratos?” Regal asked. Not because he gave a damn what Kratos thought, it was pretty evident he didn’t, but Kratos was always an issue when it came to anything kind.

            “Yeah. He says it’s fine.”

            All the more reason to think it clearly wasn’t. Above him, Sheena and Regal shared a side-long look and the same sentiment.

            Zelos nodded a few more times to let Lloyd know, yes, absolutely yes, seeing Seles was the best course of action.

            Lloyd stood back up. “Alright. We’ll set up camp here and then head that way. We have to map out the path before we go—can’t run into any human ranches.”

            And that was that really. They made camp that night, Regal and Sheena very clearly staking out as close to Zelos as they could while staying as far from the brothers as possible. And then the brothers, sitting opposite of the camp, letting the three have the fire despite Zelos not needing it anymore, and resigning themselves to sulk in silence. The next morning they set out, Regal gave Zelos the notebook (“It will be like nothing’s changed!” Sheena piped), and headed for the abbey by boat.

            Sheena was a hoverer. He hadn’t expected that. She followed him around, eyeing him suspiciously when he made any peculiar moves. “Why don’t you use that notebook? What happened to it?” she asked.

            Regal yelled from the other side of the ship, revealing that he’d been eavesdropping, “The notebook isn’t working!” His face was still red from where the binding made contact. Good. “We’ll figure out something else!”

            Zelos rolled his eyes. If it made them feel better, why not? Let them fret. Though he did wonder how they’d soothe their pride when he finally died. Regal seemed like the kind of guy to shackle himself with guilt. He already knew how Sheena would deal with it—she wouldn’t.

            Kratos watched him the entire time, predatory and silent. Whatever happened at the final seal, Zelos had a feeling Kratos would be orchestrating most of its development. He hoped, before he died, he might be able to finally talk to Kratos one-on-one again. It would be nice to know just how involved he’d been with his loss of humanity. Kratos looked away when he realized Zelos wouldn’t stop staring back. There was no point in subtleties anymore. They all knew what to fear from one another now.

            Before they arrived at the abbey, Sheena brushed his hair and braided it to the side of his neck. Just as she started to wipe at his cheeks with a washcloth dampened by the waves aside their boat, he snatched it away and took to the task himself. She still watched him, still waited for him to break down or cry or something. He didn’t quite know what she wanted, so he just cleaned himself off and handed the cloth back over. She went to clean a spot he missed but he stood up before she could touch him again. Let him be dirty. Seles wouldn’t be fooled anyway, even if he’d worn his most expensive clothes.

            “I’ll wait here,” Kratos said when they docked at the abbey’s island, and Sheena snorted, “Good riddance,” and hopped off the boat first. Zelos idled for a moment, expecting Regal to follow soon after, but he stepped close behind and herded Zelos off the deck like he was cattle.

            Lloyd raised his eyebrows at the sight and Zelos went rigid with embarrassment like he hadn’t done since he was a kid. Like he’d just been spit-cleaned by his mother in front of his friends when he was 16 (an event that had never happened, he didn’t even know if Mother had saliva, she seemed so stone-like).

            This was ridiculous. Zelos pushed Regal back and jumped off the deck himself. He left them standing by their small ship, basking in who cared what kinds of emotions. He didn’t need a notebook for the two words in his head, just one finger, and he sent it flying behind him as he stomped up to the abbey.

            The guards stepped aside for him, habit, but they looked at each other uneasily. Zelos was supposed to be journeying around the world and solving all of their problems. Did he have any business being there? No, but that had never stopped him before.

            He took the steps two at a time until he neared the top and really managed to focus in on what he’d been hearing, buzzing in his head nonstop since the abbey made itself seen on the edge of the horizon.

            When Seles had been a little girl, around four—just a month before four, a voice reminded him in his head, as though he needed to be told he didn’t work his calendars and memories around Seles in his brain, like time wasn’t told to himself in regards to how long it had been before Seles was born, how long until she first smiled, how long until she laughed at his jokes, the first time she’d ever called him big brother and then the time when she’d stopped and he was just the chosen one to her, just like he was to everybody else—focus. Focus.

            Seles had been around four years old when she decided she wanted to write an opera. She wanted to do everything it turned out, but then she wanted to write music. She would wander around the abbey and sing everything she saw, everything she thought.

            _“Oh my big brother, do my eyes yet deceive_

_That great big wolf’s smile when you look over at me?”_

            He would sing back. They were both too young to know better about being embarrassed.

            _“Oh little sister, you must be mistaken_

_I’d never harm you, you’re a star in the makin’.”_

            He hadn’t been as good as Seles at making up the rhymes and she’d laugh and say, taunting, because all Wilders ever seemed breed to do was taunt and prod, “ Looks like I’m better at you at another thing!” But she’d stopped singing when her lungs kept seizing up at around seven (seven years, two months, five days). The doctors said she had to give up the silly dream of music. There were more important pursuits that wouldn’t kill her. She still didn’t stop until Zelos forced himself not to sing back one day. Instead he said, “C’mon, sis, aren’t you a little old to keep doing this?” and he left about a minute after when she kept that glassy look in her eyes, the look of a little girl holding back tears. He’d only barely shut the door behind him when she’d let out a tiny sob.

            Zelos stopped at the top of the stairs now, breath thick and hot in this throat.

_“There’s a tower in the sky that reaches to the heavens,_

_That’s where the angels go_

_And should I watch it long enough_

_Wings it shall bestow_

_For the chosen is our great world’s child_

_And he lives for it alone_

_When he gets his angel’s wings_

_That’s where he’ll find his throne.”_

            This was a bad idea. This was the worst idea. Zelos stumbled back and hit the wall. _SLAM!_ The alto crooning stopped (so different from the bird chirp of Mother) and then called out, “Tokunaga? Did you fall?”

            Shit shit shit shit shit. She was coming. What would he say—idiot! He couldn’t say anything. Why did he come here? What was he thinking?!

            “Are you alright—” Seles opened the door completely and then she stared. The book in her hand dropped. Instincts kicked in and Zelos grabbed it before it could hit the floor. Then he froze, still hunched, and looked up at her with a sheepish smile.

            “Chosen one.”

            So, she was still on that it looked like.

            Zelos straightened up to full height and held the book out to her. She eyed him and took it quietly away, gaze settled on the crystal on his neck. “Don’t you have a journey to attend to?”

            He shrugged.

            “I shouldn’t be surprised.” Seles turned away from him and padded over to her desk. She set the book down and gazed out the window at the tower. “You always procrastinate.”

            The truth was Zelos rarely procrastinated. The visits to Seles were perfectly planned, spaced out long so she’d stop relying on his company. He didn’t want to ghost her halls, didn’t want to draw her hopes out like Mother and Father had once done to him.

            He reached over to her side table to begin scribbling down on a piece of paper she’d left lying there. Maybe originally meant for a letter but he doubted it. He didn’t remember her having many friends.

            “But here you are. Where is your party?” She waved at the idea like it was meaningless. “Never mind. I see them, still on the boat. Are you here for something or just to bother me?”

            Seles turned around, dainty on the edges of her heels, and lifted her chin, her brows, her lip, all expectant and haughty. Father made that face. Zelos made that face.

            He handed her over the note and waited.

            “What is this?” Her chin lowered immediately. “… Dearest sister I… Lost the ability…” Her eyes darted up from the page to stare, and then went back to peel over the words. “Part of the journey—Brother, what is this?” She waved the paper more hurriedly.

            Zelos could only shake his head.

            “Why is…” She looked over the paper again to see if he’d written ‘just kidding!’ on it somewhere or something like it. She turned it over, then back over again. Seles slapped the paper on the table and pointed her finger up at him. “Are you okay?”

            She demanded it like she demanded everything else. Demanded her lungs to work, demanded him to visit more, demand demand demand. Her finger went limp and she reached, palm full open, to brush at the top of his forehead. “You’re filthy…” Her eyes met his and they stared, long, hand just resting at the top of his head until her fingers started to tremble from the strain of lifting so high. He lowered for her, reflexive, and her fingers stilled against his skin.

            “Are you okay?”

            No.

            He mouthed the word, the heaviest confession he’d ever made and thought maybe he’d feel better for it, but really he just felt so… So tired… He shut his eyes and savored the touch as Seles suddenly pulled him close. Zelos’s knees wobbled underneath and he decided it was easier, so much easier, to sit on the floor with her. So they did that, sat on the floor together, her clawing through his braid to play with his ringlets and him letting her. It reminded him of when she’d take the ends of his hair in her hands and spun around with him, laughing, red ribbons tangling her up until they fell together.

            “Can you get away?” He shook his head.

            “Have you tried?” He nodded.

            “How?”

            Zelos thought about how devastated she’d been when she discovered how Father died, the man she never knew. Thought about the look of fear when she’d read the letter just now—how quick chosen went to being brother now that he had to really live up to and die for that title. He thought of that little bottle of poison, how he almost died so she would have had to go through this journey instead, and he shuddered.

            “Never mind.” Seles pulled away, suddenly determined. “I want to talk to them. You can’t do this.” She stood up and grabbed his hand. With strength that stole his breath away, she hoisted him to his feet. Seles paused and looked him over. “You’re so thin,” she murmured.

            He’d lost weight while recovering from the attempt and hadn’t gained enough back before the angel process began. Now he was frozen in this slightly skeletal frame. At the inn, back when he’d been allowed to go anywhere by himself, he pulled up his shirt and was able to count his ribs on every breath in.

            Seles grabbed him by the bicep and dragged him out of the room down the stairs. The guards glanced at each other again but Zelos waved them off with his free hand. Seles wasn’t allowed a lot of clearance but he would watch her, he assured with a firm look. Hilarious, given how opposite things had become.

            “Where are they,” Seles was grumbling under her breath as she escorted him out of the building.

            On the dock he could see Sheena jolt up to full attention and almost run behind Regal, though he doubted Sheena would ever admit to it. One day he’d have to ask what Seles had done to her. For now, he settled for hearing Sheena say, “Watch out watch out. Here they come.”

            “What are you doing to my brother?!” Seles barked as she stomped over. She let go of his arm, a heat on his skin left behind from the brashness, and glared at them. He settled for sticking his hands in his pockets and giving the party an innocent shrug. Kratos scoffed, smart enough to know better.

            “You’re Seles?” Lloyd asked. His feet kicked out over the side of the ship as he sat, casual and reckless, atop the railing. Kratos stood right behind him.

            Seles turned to him, flustered a minute at this handsome teenage boy (whoah whoah whoah back off buddy. Zelos went hot with protectiveness) and then regained herself. “Yes. I want to know what you’re doing to my brother.”

            “It’s the journey of regeneration,” Kratos said. “A process to regain the planet’s mana.”

            “I’m not stupid, you hedgehog.” Zelos snorted and turned away, hand over his mouth to cover his smile. “Why can’t he speak? What does that have to do with world mana?”

            “The journey of becoming an angel is complex, far too complex for little girls to involve themselves with.”

            Regal grinned. He'd traveled in enough of the same circles as the Wilders to know Seles was no ordinary little girl. Her eyes iced, cold with fury. Kratos almost winced.

            “ _My brother_ ,” she spoke the words so proudly that Zelos’s smile faded, “is not okay. I know that. Little girl or not. I know what I’d do to make sure he’s okay again. Little girl. Or. Not.” Threat bleeding from her words. “I’d do anything to make sure.”

            “Sometimes sacrifices must be made.” Zelos noted with increasing amusement how Regal, Sheena, and Lloyd let Kratos dig himself further into his pretentious hole.

            “Are you volunteering?” Seles’s head almost bobbed out. She was proud of that quip, he could feel it.

            “Kratos, go under deck,” Regal suggested. Merciful.

            Kratos glared at Regal before excusing himself in silence. He’d gone from the intimidating presence of a lion to the annoying presence of the house cat that pissed on everything.

            Regal pulled Seles aside, gentle. “We’re going to another city, not to the seal,” he whispered in her ear. Lloyd seemed unconcerned by this development but then Zelos remembered he probably couldn’t hear Regal’s confidence. “We’re going to find another way.” Seles pulled away and eyed him.

            “Duke Bryant,” she began, suspicious as always.

            “Yes?” Regal reared back, patient and polite as always.

            “Thank you.” She shot a look at Sheena, nothing nice, and then turned around to look at Zelos. “You’ll be okay again,” she promised.

            This was a new plan, something that had developed when he hadn’t been paying attention. Regal and Sheena smiled at him, confident in the scheme. Then he saw Lloyd and noticed the same look.

            “It’s alright,” Lloyd shrugged. “We’ll just need to split off for a while.” He said the words, whisper soft and for Zelos only.

            Seles wrapped her arms around Zelos’s torso and squeezed. “You’ll be okay again.”

            He doubted it, but kissed her on top of the head anyway.


	8. Chapter 8

                Lloyd didn’t trust Kratos anymore. Or maybe he did, but they just couldn’t see eye-to-eye on this one thing. Whatever it was, the kid wasn’t invested in the journey like he had been at the beginning. Not so stupid after all.

                Once Seles was shuffled back into the abbey, Lloyd padded up to Zelos’s side.

                “This island looks pretty cool. We should take a walk!” He smiled, a great, sloppy, puppy dog grin. Zelos nodded and let Lloyd guide him around the island he’d walked a hundred times before with his little sister.

                “Sooo,” Lloyd hummed. His steps kicked out, a playful march. “Kratos and I…” He scrunched his nose up. If he had been thinking about this conversation beforehand, it hadn’t helped him sort out the words. How complicated could it be? Mercenary work didn’t seem so convoluted.

                “Kratos and I aren’t really the best for this job anymore. I know he wouldn’t agree with me, but that’s why I’m here and he isn’t.” Lloyd turned to Zelos, peering up now. He blinked when he really looked at Zelos, like he’d forgotten how much of him was missing these days. Composure was found again with impressive speed. Maybe the kid had a mask of his own. “I don’t think we should stop but… I think you, Sheena, and Regal should go on to rest at one of the surrounding cities while I talk to him. There are a lot of things we need to deal with like the church and—and this doesn’t really effect you,” he admitted with refreshing plainness. “Regal and Sheena can protect you for a few days while we figure out what’s going on with the trial.”

                Were all trials not like his? Was he different? Wrong, somehow?

                Lloyd’s eyes widened. If he had a mask then maybe he’d taken it from Zelos, since his seemed to be all but wasted now.

                “Not that this trial is weird or anything, but I think we’re missing a lot of pieces to the puzzle. And, I know everybody is beating around the bush about it for my sake,” not really beating around the bush, more like setting the bush on fire while yelling directly at Kratos’s face that he was a liar, but whatever, “but he knows something.”

            Lloyd looked away, eyes soft. “He’s lied before about things, I wouldn’t put it past him to lie about this too.”

                What Zelos wouldn’t give to dig into Lloyd’s brain, to dig out those little neuroglials and really figure out what the fuck went on with those two brothers. Too different in age to be so close without mirroring a father/son relationship, but this was… Uncanny parent and child dynamic. Kratos wasn’t paternal, not like Regal, so the oozing of it with Lloyd, his brother… But they were still family, and Zelos was certainly not as protective of other girls as he was of Seles… It smelled funny, logistics and comparisons be damned.

                “We’re going to stay the night here,” Lloyd debriefed. “And then, when I take watch and Kratos goes to sleep, you three can get off the island. It’ll give you guys enough time to rest while I figure out what he’s hiding.”

                Zelos stopped walking, grabbed Lloyd’s shoulder and stopped the boy with him. Lloyd blinked and looked over his shoulder in confusion. Zelos took a deep breath and scrambled in his head to figure out some way to ask his question without the notepad. Why had he been so quick to throw it at Regal?

                “Charades?” Lloyd teasingly suggested.

                Oh, why not?

                Zelos lifted seven fingers. “Seven words.” Nod. “First word…” Zelos drew a question mark in the sky. “Why?” Nod. “Second word…” Zelos shook his head, it’d be easier to fill in that blank with the other words. “Okay then,” Lloyd was quick to understand, “Why…” Point. “Me.” Nod. “Fourth word…” Zelos drew his sword and set it on the ground. Stepped away. “Sword?” No. Repeat. “Set.” No, but close. “Put.” Yes. “Why (blank) me put…” Point upwards. “Up?” Nod. Point towards the boat. “Him.”

                Lloyd put the words together and laughed suddenly at the sentence. “Why do I put up with him?” Nod. “Gee, Zelos. Tell me how you really feel.

                “He’s family. He cares, even if he’s not that great at showing it sometimes.” He smiled, sly. Lloyd had two extremes—that puppy dog, tail wagging grin or that crooked sidelong ‘I just threw eggs at your porch’ sneer. “Your sister would probably get it. I doubt she knows much about how this journey started, you know.”

                That was different and Lloyd knew it. Zelos glared at him until Lloyd just snickered and shrugged.

                “My mom died when I was really young and he never knew what to do after that… He tries and I know he loves me.” The tone was definitive. Lloyd stared out at the field in front of them. The wind blew back the tall grass and it tickled Lloyd’s nose until he let out a sneeze. “Sorry,” he mumbled before continuing. “But sometimes he just doesn’t tell me what’s going on. I think he thinks ignorance is bliss.” Zelos could understand the sentiment. “But I think… I think he only thinks that because he’s been hurt a lot. He’d rather forget about that then deal with it.”

                Flashback to that man in the cave, stone-shouldered and shut off at the sight of the monster. That ominous, from-nowhere cry of ‘Dad’ before Lloyd charged— _Wait._

                No no. Kratos was young, barely thirty at the most, and Lloyd was seventeen. That was only a little over ten years. There was no way.

                “I want to help. I want to help you, of course. We’re not here to frustrate and bully you, you know. I know it seems like it sometimes but we’re here to keep you safe. That’s why I’m doing this now. Because…” He squared his shoulders and stood taller. Zelos admired the shine in his eyes when he declared, more to himself than Zelos, “Because whatever he’s doing isn’t good for you and that’s the job we were assigned to keep. We have to keep you safe.”

                Did Lloyd know that Kratos threatened Seles? Didn’t seem like it. Maybe he’d find out. It was very likely Lloyd, with his do-gooder attitude and heroism mentality, wouldn’t come for them if he really found out what Kratos did. If Lloyd truly cared about Zelos’s safety, Kratos didn’t seem like he could be any part of that.

                The kid turned to him and smiled, softer now and apologetic. “I wish you would have told us about the senses earlier… But, it’s fine. We’ll figure it out. You’ll get to babbling on again in no time!”

                Gee, thanks. Zelos rolled his eyes.

                Lloyd laughed a young boy’s laugh, nothing but unironic mirth beneath the hops and skips.

                “I mean it though. I miss it. I can’t believe I’m saying that, wishing back for the days when you were making fun of my hair or whining about my food.” He smiled like somebody remembering the dead, and Zelos smiled back. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted that, to just be thought back on and have the thoughts be fond. “I’ve never met anybody like you before. Or Sheena, or Regal really. Kratos spent a lot of time training me but this… This is the first mission.”

                Zelos mouthed the word, _Training_? He wanted to know more, wished he could speak so he might egg on Lloyd’s sudden trust in him, wished he had realized how much he’d wanted somebody to just look at him and think ‘I believe in this man.’

                “Kratos had to make money somehow, he couldn’t just raise me alone with no support. I spent a lot of time alone. Trained in this cabin in the woods with an old dwarf named Altessa. Kratos would do mercenary work and then he’d come back and we’d live in our own cabin, just for a while in Ozette, until he needed to go off again.” Lloyd’s smile was less bright now, just the sad remembrance of fact. The kind of smile Zelos once had to wear at parties. ( _Father loves to travel. He always brings back gifts. He’s always so happy when he’s helping others in the world, I’m never lonely because I know how happy he is_.)

                His gut churned.

                This felt too personal, too intimate, and suddenly all he wanted was for Lloyd to stop. Why tell him? He didn’t want this little boy’s pain. Lloyd was finally old enough to really get to work, so now he got to travel with brother and escort others to their deaths? Because Lloyd’s mother had died too soon and Kratos still wasn’t over it, still didn’t know what that meant for this boy cloaked in red, red like blood like that omen of constant life that spewed before death?

                Zelos wanted to puke. Mother died too soon, now time to grow up. Time to realize this world is tough, that you might die at any second too. Months of eating food cold because food tasters of every sort had to be brought in to make sure it wasn’t poisoned, just in case one or two or five of them had an allergy. The funerals. Oh goddess, the funerals. The rain. The hanging. Seles being sent to the abbey and Sebastian’s voice in his ear, his hand on his shoulder, saying, “It’s just to keep you safe, Master Wilder,” never minding the fact that safe and happy did not come in a joint package and he was just a boy who wanted to be happy, just once.

                “I guess you knew all that… Right? I haven’t really been out in the field or anything before.” Embarrassed, Lloyd turned to him and his face fell. “Oh wait. Uhm, did I say something wrong?”

                Zelos hurriedly shook his head in a no.

                “You looked really freaked… Should I go get Regal?”

                No no no no no no nononononoyes yes yes yesss yes yes yes.

                Lloyd patted his shoulder and eased Zelos onto the ground. “Stay here.” He bolted back to their little vessel to get the newly designated chosen caretaker. He’d have to get Regal a vest like service dogs wore.

                “Uh, just—just breathe!” Lloyd took care to yell over his shoulder before he was really out of sight.

                Zelos put his head between his knees to even out his breathing.

                Why did Lloyd care if he was safe? Why did he tell him all that? And then Zelos had to scare him off, remind him just how fucked up he was, pile on the guilt that Lloyd had let this happen in the first place—no, he hadn’t. It wasn’t Lloyd’s fault, wasn’t even Kratos’s fault.

                It was Martel’s fault. It was the world’s fault. It was Zelos’s fault, because this was what he was meant to do, to be, to have been. In no world could he be happy and be alive. His very existence sucked happiness into itself like a black hole. He’d been born from a womb with walls coated in hate and self-loathing and swam in it until he could emerge and then live it. Live it and hate it because that’s what he was made for, made from: life and hatred.

                He heard him from a mile away so Zelos didn’t know why he was so surprised when Regal’s hand slapped down on his shoulder.

                “Are you okay?”

                He was so tired of people asking that. The answer wasn’t changing any time soon.

                Zelos nodded and straightened up. Regal eyed him, now settled at his side. He wasn’t stupid, had grown up with this little trickster biting at his heels at parties long enough to know that Zelos was a liar to his core. But Regal was decent and let him keep his lie, knew him for the little kleptomaniac he was and the comfort the lies could bring.

                “Did he tell you the plan?”

                Nod.

                Silence, like Regal forgetting Zelos couldn’t speak or maybe him just looking as hard as he could to see if Zelos might let something slide, a tear fall or a sob erupt. He did neither. Regal shifted, set his arm on the muscle of one folded leg. Zelos thought absently that Regal probably packed a mean kick, but the guy was practically a boxer. He’d never seen him kick a thing.

                “Do you… like the plan?”

                Did it matter? Zelos nodded, in case it might get Regal to leave him alone faster.

                “I’m bothering you.”

                Zelos blinked at the realization, shocked that Regal had been thinking of Zelos, really thinking of him, enough to see the truth. Regal smiled, sad, in return.

                “I’m worried.”

                Worried. Zelos swallowed and looked away. Regal removed his hand but kept him under that scrutinizing, soft-eyed stare.

                “I’m worried, so I’m going to keep doing it—bothering you, I mean. You’ll thank me later.” Regal motioned out around them. “Do you want to keep sitting here?”

                The sun was setting. Any longer and they’d have to walk back in the dark. Zelos remembered his wings and then remembered he hadn’t let them out since the last seal. Just thinking of them made him sick. He leaned forward and pressed his face into his knees. Fuck it. He curled up completely, fetal and away from the world. He hoped Seles couldn’t see them from her window.

                “We’ll stay,” Regal hummed. He rubbed Zelos’s back again. It was becoming a near constant addition to any time spent with him.

                “Do you want me to talk?” Shake of the head.

                That was all it took. The acknowledgement didn’t come verbally, which was rather the point when it all boiled away. They sat together, Regal rubbing his back until he wasn’t and then they just sat for minute and minute and minutes more than that. When Zelos finally lifted his head, the sun was gone and Regal blinked at his side, almost half-asleep and surprised at Zelos's resurfacing.

                “Now?” The word came out soft, barely intelligible. 

                Zelos nodded and together they headed back to the abbey.

 

                He stayed in Seles’s room until it was time to leave—her haggard breaths always worse at night. She coughed, coughed, and Zelos thought for a moment she might never stop. But then she found her breath once more, opened her eyes to smile at him hovering over her bed, and then drifted away again. He tangled his fingers in her hair, stroked that soft, pale forehead, and thanked Martel that, of everything he could no longer do, he could not cry.

                Sheena slunk into the room, silent, and gripped his arm like a phantom and he let her.

                He kept his eyes on Seles the entire way out of the room and then listened to her little rabbit heart on each step down the stairs as he followed Sheena away.

                Regal was already waiting on the boat with the captain, a sleepy-eyed man who was willing to put up with a lot given his earlier payment, but still had enough humanity to grump about the deck at such an unreasonable hour. Within a minute they were leaving. When they’d put at least two miles between the abbey’s island and the boat, Zelos spotted Kratos’s figure on the horizon and knew they would find him again.

                A bear hand on his shoulder and suddenly rubbing.

                “Are you okay?” Regal asked.

                Zelos nodded.

                “Good.” The hand stopped and went back to Regal's side. “Do you remember Calaiste?”

                The word stirred in his head and dredged up at the footnote of a memory he couldn’t quite recall.

                Regal watched with usual vigilance. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it, but I don’t think you ever went. Your father favored it quite a lot. It’s a scholar’s city, though not like Sybak. The church affiliation is all but decimated there now.”

                Father and Mother walking down the halls, her pace quick and agitated while he stomped about and around her, only to have her flutter in front of him again and demand him to stop. Demand him to stop before going back to that cold, half-elf’s city. Stop before going back to that other woman in Calaiste.

                Zelos reeled back and stared at Regal in shock. So much for a friend.

                Regal lifted his hands in harmlessness. “I know it’s not a place you’d prefer to visit. I know. There are people within the city who can tell us what’s going on, they study ruins on the outskirts—angelic ruins. Sheena is going to scout the area, and you and I will stay low until she finds the person we’re looking for. It’ll be alright.”

                Not even remotely. Zelos whipped away from Regal before he could slap that hand on him again. He stormed down under deck, grabbed the blanket from what was once Lloyd’s bunk, wrapped it around himself until he could barely see or hear or think and he tried to scream. Tried so hard to scream and cry and suffer but all he could do was shake.

                Sheena came down a few moments later and settled at his side. She said nothing. She only waited until he sunk back against the wall and shut his eyes. Then she grabbed his hand, patted it, and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

                He ripped his hand away, pushed off from the back of the bunk, and coiled up as far away from her as he could. Sheena left after thirty minutes.

 

           


	9. Chapter 9

                After Mother died, half-elf relations went from terrible to incomprehensible. They’d gone from dogs to spiders, the type of creature you wanted to stomp out and eradicate. There were maybe half a dozen half-elves in Meltokio when Zelos last checked—all huddled in dark corners of research labs. A cockroach that scampered when the light shined on them, creatures just trying to live in a world that specialized in making sure they didn’t.

                They blamed a race on the indiscretion of Father. Blamed a race for the fact he’d felt so isolated and alone that he had to tiptoe around city alleys to meet the woman he really loved, because he’d been forced to have some status child with the woman he didn’t. Because of the fault of a crumbled system, the half-elves suffered and died and truly lived hell, preordained before any of them left the womb.

                Zelos didn’t care. He still didn’t want to be near them. Neither them, nor their tainted city.

                That preference didn’t matter. Zelos’s preferences weren’t unlike the half-elves—discarded and condescended. They were going to Calaiste, the city of Mother’s killer, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it.

                The air on the journey to Calaiste cooled as they neared the tip of the Toize continent, not that Zelos could feel it. He could only see Sheena’s shaking and Regal’s breath steaming and the sky greying. Oh, right. Right. It was the end of autumn, wasn’t it? Of course it was.

            Snow would be coming soon.

            Of course it would.

                Calaiste was a small scholar’s village that nestled itself across from the frozen continent where Flanoir resided. While Flanoir stayed under a constant blanket of snow, Calaiste varied slightly more, though it constantly remained far too cold for any sensible person to live there (another reason why the half-elves had congregated, no human would fight for a home in Calaiste). While Flanoir had a (debatable) beauty among the layers of white and deep shade from the sun, Calaiste was a gray underpit of a village constantly under siege from cold, hateful storms. Not just once but five times over had the city almost been completely decimated by tidal waves and lightning tempests--and that had only been in Father’s lifetime. Certainly there had been more instances; though, it was doubtful Father cared about those times when the other woman hadn’t lived within the walls.

                Regal gave Zelos a cape before they arrived and tucked his hair in the collar. He said nothing, hadn’t tried to pry Zelos open since he’d first made their destination known. The motions were neither bold nor gentle. Just motions, turning Zelos in the ways he needed to be seated to better suit whatever Regal was thinking of. He’d gone from being a tool for regeneration to a tool for conscious.

                Sheena and Regal left him out of all discussions, only stopping their delegating so they could take turns babysitting. Silent, preoccupied figures they’d become, sitting next to him on the large expanses while he stared out at the chilling waters and tried really really hard to forget about the color red when the skies threatened snow just as much as it threatened ice.

                He sat under deck when they reached the city. An order in his face, Regal up close and rubbing his shoulder and saying, “We’ll be back soon. I’m going to get the rooms. Sheena is going to search for somebody to help. Will you be okay here?” Zelos nodded so Regal would leave sooner, and, luckily, that’s just what he did. Sheena lingered by the door of the ship, a shadow, and left right after.

                Zelos couldn’t be sure how much time passed before the boat captain came under deck.

                “Hey, uh, you going with them?”

                Zelos blinked and turned his gaze expectantly to the grimy captain. An old man, too rough to remind him of anybody he’d known back in Meltokio—even from the slums.

                “Your friends left. I’m going onto land. If you leave now, you can catch up with the big guy.” The captain motioned to the door. Had they…? Zelos scrunched his nose up. What was he… Had Regal wanted him to follow? His memories came up foggy. So much came up foggy. So… follow?

                Zelos stood and the captain broke into a grin. “I never know about you,” the captain confessed. “Always so glassy eyed. Never know how much you’re catching.”

                The captain didn’t know about his chosen status… Or did he? Zelos had been so distracted lately, couldn’t remember how much had happened or how much he’d thought about happening… Lloyd was gone, Kratos too, so he hadn’t imagined that night. Regal had only asked if he’d be okay, but he could just as easily follow. He could still do that. That just meant walking.

                He stepped off the boat, the captain rounding him and jogging for the city while he rubbed at his arms in the freezing rain. “Better hurry! He’ll be at the inn!” The captain yelled over his shoulder and soon he was gone, disappeared under that heavy city fog…

                And now, so suddenly and unexpectedly that he couldn’t even begin to know what to do with it, Zelos was completely alone.

                He pulled the cape tighter, self-conscious of the adorned gem around his neck, and took a step into the city. When nothing threatened him (wait, why did he care if somebody threatened him? Did he want to live again?) he stepped forward again… And again… And then he was pacing the streets, the only sound around him being the scampering of those rushing inside to escape the thickening, cold rain. It hit the metal gutters and tops of houses like little needles dropping. Not rain—sleet.

                So this was where Father spent his days? Nothing particularly special here. He kicked a stone under his feet down an alleyway. A yowl sounded and then a splash of struggling feet.

            No.

            Struggling paws.

            Zelos rounded the corner, peeked down the alley where a small tomcat scuttled under a dumpster for cover from the weather and stranger, a limp to its movements from where Zelos had nailed him with the rock.

                Even cats now? He was just fucking up everything these days. Zelos jogged a quick two step into the alley, sat down next to the dumpster, and held his hand out, tongue clicking against his teeth to draw the little cat out. Paws squished underneath against small puddles in the concaves of the cobblestone. Just a little closer. He clicked his tongue again. Come a little closer…

                Steps from the edge of the alley where it met the sidewalk and then a pause and sharp breath intake from up high, a person’s height. Zelos ignored them. He clicked his tongue again, then figured maybe he could just heal the stupid thing from where he was, though a cat wasn’t going to respond to healing like an equipped fighter.

                “You should go find cover,” the person at the alley segway said, his voice clear and strong and young. _Clickclickclick_ of tongue against teeth as Zelos continued to ignore him.

                “What are you doing?” Suddenly impatient. As if getting cover was something Zelos owed him. _Clickclickclick_.

                “I asked what you’re doing. Hey, can you hear me?” He stepped closer. Zelos snapped his finger under the dumpster, felt fur under his hand and then a sudden recoil. Damnit. “The storm is about to get worse! Go inside!” _Clickclickclick_. Stretch. Fur under hand again.

                The man stomped over, grabbed Zelos’s shoulder, and turned him around. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?” The words came out like a snarl from this blue-haired man—no… No, not man. Half-elf. A tall, long-haired man with cold eyes, cold like all half-elves eyes (like Seles’s eyes sometimes), whose dirtied brown hand (not dirtied by dirt but that’s just how it looked, how he was born, born dirty) reached out from behind a heavy down cape to reveal armor and strength. Zelos winced away. Fuck off, half-elf. Fuck off fuck off _fuck off_.

                “You—…” Half-elf let Zelos turn back to the dumpster and click for the cat again. _Clickclickclickclickclickclick_. _Clickclickclick_. The man knelt down, about an arm’s length from Zelos’s side.

                “Do you have some place to go?” _Clickclickclick_. “… I guess not. Are you here with somebody?” _Clickclickclick_. Half-elf weighed his weight to the back of his heels and watched Zelos stretch further underneath the dumpster.

                “Cats won’t come if you act like you want them,” he mused. “They only come when you’ve resigned yourself to step away… You have to earn their respect by not begging… Reverse psychology.”

                Half-elf’s eyes were narrow when Zelos finally turned to him, the look of a predator locked on the dumpster marked by narrowed, scheming eyes. “If you’re impatient,” he began, speaking out of the corner of his mouth, “maybe you should try pulling it out by its tail.”

                When Zelos looked back at the dumpster, suddenly so protective of this little orange tomcat and wanting so badly for anybody but this half-elf to lure it out, a breeze swept by his side. A cape whipping out. When he looked back, the half-elf was gone and Regal stood in the alley segway. A different blue from the half-elf, a calming blue, and Zelos suddenly felt so ungrateful for having thought so many terrible things about his keepers while on the boat to Calaiste. Only wanted to be somewhere with them away from this ice.

                “What is it?” Regal jogged over. Zelos pointed under the dumpster before clicking his teeth again. Regal frowned, “I’m sure a stray here can handle itself. We need to get inside.” His hand wrapped around Zelos’s shoulder to pull him away.

            The idea of the little cat, alone, in the cold, hurt, red on white, flooded through him.

            Zelos shoved Regal away and turned back to the dumpster.

                “Never mind.” Regal quickly changed strategy. He lowered completely in the dirty street and pulled out a piece of jerky from his pocket. He held it out, then set it down. His hand gently rested on the muscle of Zelos’s arm and he quietly guided him back from the dumpster. “In its own time,” he promised Zelos. “It’s scared.”

                Regal removed his grip to tighten his own hood as they waited for the cat. Sure enough it surfaced, took the meat, and then coiled back in.

                “And again…” Regal set down another piece a little further out from the dumpster. Less time before the cat reached out but it quickly darted under again.

                “Chosens aren’t allowed to have pets, are they?” Zelos nodded. “I suppose I understand the worry. Animals are unpredictable.” Regal set down another piece of meat. The cat came out further, slunk back slower under the dumpster after grabbing the food. Regal held the meat in his palm now. “I would venture to say that’s the appeal of them. At least, why they appeal to myself.”

                The cat inched out and began to eat from Regal’s hand. Zelos shifted and the cat hissed in his direction. Zelos hissed back sarcastically and noted with an embarrassing amount of happiness that hissing was something he could do without his speech. Regal chuckled, but it bit into a shiver when another wave of sleet hit their backs. The cat jerked to scamper back under the dumpster, but Regal hoisted it up. He ignored the squirming and hissing and told Zelos, “Let’s go.”

            Convinced Regal would have no issue lifting a squirming and hissing Zelos in the other crook of his arm, Zelos obeyed.

                Regal’s pace to the inn was quick, blue hairs poking out from the folds of his hooded cloak to keep reminding him of that other blue-haired man. Who was he? He’d changed when he saw Zelos’s face. He found himself missing Kratos’s constant vigilance and Lloyd’s cocky blood thirst. Regal guided Zelos into their inn room, only stopping to practically throw a bag of gald at the receptionist. She almost began to turn him away for the cat but thought better of it with a heavy weight of cash in her hands. Her thankyou’s were shut away when Regal locked the door behind them, and they were safe from the storm in their room.

                He sat down on the bed to examine the cat, to look over the wound Zelos had inflicted upon its leg. Zelos hurried to the bathroom and returned with a towel, only to have Regal chuckle at the sight of it. Zelos pulled back—fine, let the damn thing freeze to death, see if he cared, he didn’t even like cats—and Regal shook his head. “Thank you.” Still chuckling, he took the towel and wrapped the cat like a tiny cabbage roll. Zelos threw himself into a chair beside the bed and crossed his arms over his chest.

                “I don’t mean to laugh,” Regal admitted, “It’s only that your interests have been…” Nonexistent? Hollow? Dead? “Muted, and you were so adamant about this little cat.”

            The tomcat had settled into the crook of Regal’s arms, not looking entirely happy, but having most definitely resigned itself for being taken care of, ears pressed down but eyes shut in relief. Zelos could relate. “When you hit your teens, your reputation stretched out across the whole of Tethe’alla. I remember hearing women talk about The Chosen—he’d grown into a tomcat. ‘Too smart for his own good.’” Regal smiled fondly over at him. “I think some of them thought you might be rabid to the system. There’s nobody else in nobility who loathes it quite like you.”

                Zelos stared out the window at the ice storm and considered. He certainly didn’t doubt it, but he thought he’d been more subtle. Thought he had hidden the hatred so much more.

                Regal caught on, because of course he did. “Introspection doesn’t suit the elite in those ways. I don’t suppose they realized it themselves.” Zelos glanced at him, mouthed, _And you did?_ Regal shook his head.

                “Not until recently. No.”

                Thunder rocked the walls and a thick sheet of sleet slammed into the windows. Regal shushed the cat, now squirming and hissing once more, and Zelos remembered Sheena was out there, with the storm and that predatory half-breed lurking the alleyways. He shifted, pulled a pillow out from under his back that he’d sat on indiscriminately, and tossed it at Regal who blinked in turn. “What?”

                _Sheena?_

                Regal frowned. “She’ll be back soon.”

                That wasn’t what he’d been asking but whatever.

                Regal leaned until his back rested against the wall and he shut his eyes, hands busied with petting the tomcat. Zelos turned again to the window as another burst of sleet slapped into the glass. He’d be decent enough to wait until Regal was really out of it before he headed into the storm again to find Sheena.

                One minute, two minute, mask slide and resting until finally the easy rhythm of Regal’s breathing filled the air. When Zelos finally looked back at him, Regal was settled into a slumped position, his hand curled around the paw of the cat, his finger lightly resting against the fat of a paw pad. Zelos retied his cloak and then slipped up out of the chair, quiet. Regal was unusually capable as a fighter and guard for being a noble, but he still was just a noble. He stood no chance of waking when Zelos had his mind set on sneaking out. He didn’t lock the door behind him, knew it was the only thing that might click Regal into consciousness, and then he was padding down the steps back out into the sleet to find the other half of their party.

                The streets had been scarce of people before, but now they were simply barren. Zelos padded down the streets, thankful he’d long since changed out of his white clothes for a simple traveler’s outfit Regal had given him, rounding empty corner after empty corner, worried that his very existence in this weather would mark him as Other and that half-elf with the cold eyes would come at him again.

                _If you’re impatient, maybe you should try pulling its tail._

                Zelos shuddered and pulled his cape in tighter, letting it bunch and cover the crest around his neck, feeling like a boy afraid of monsters in shadows. Like the boy who’d dreamt of half-elves like boogeymen, waiting to take anything he cared about because he’d dared to exist. Like they were all that different from one another. Like they weren’t both bred in wombs tainted with hatred by mothers who knew they’d just created a life destined to be nothing.

                Zelos sped up, rounded another corner—c’mon, Sheena, where are you—and stopped short at the sight of him, that half-elf, blue hair coming full speed down the street, a dual-blade drawn and pointing. Predator.

                If Zelos hadn’t had his angel senses, had moved just a quarter of a second later, the blade would have hit him square in the chest.

                “So you’re not as vegetative as I thought!” Half-elf half-laughed. He spun the blade around and stepped back, watching Zelos and marking his movement through the fog of the sleet. Needle rain bounced off the walls around them and Zelos stepped back, remembering more of his footing from cotillion than any battle, feeling more on step with an equal than he had since the angelic process had begun. “What a first.” He smiled and matched Zelos’s steps. “Older. Maybe that’s why.”

                What an asshole. Memories of nobles talking about him like he wasn’t there, Father talking about him like he wasn’t there, discussing him like a piece of meat at a feast. How he’d been seasoned and cut and prepared. How he’d been presented. _Older._ He knew the significance, how the church liked veal as opposed to bull, how the young weren’t as likely to be so fucked up—weren’t so likely to fuck up everything else as a result. The young were easier to manipulate. Easier to kill too.

                Half-elf charged again and Zelos jumped—skipped—backwards, drew his shield and thrusted the bastard off before he drew his sword and sent him spinning upwards in a canon of light. When the half-elf came down, he seemed startled and took a few steps away. Said, “Kratos’s technique,” and then hardened. Seemed like a natural response to Kratos’s name even across species.

                Zelos only had a second before he was attacked once more. He pulled back, shielding the next hit and pushing forward so he could swipe out his legs and grab half-elf off balance. Half-elf fell, almost hit the cobblestone, but caught himself just in time to hoist up and kick. A heel knocked into Zelos’s chin and he thought distantly— _Not the face_!—before grabbing the heel and throwing the bastard into the wall. Sheena would have to wait. He needed to get out of here.

                He used the only time he had to cast the spell, a simple wind-blade that would knock the sleet around and cover him as he ran. “Damnit! Show yourself!” Half-elf yelled. Zelos smirked and took off, jumping the sides of the alley walls up until he was on the roofs of the townhouses. He settled into the shingles and he waited and he listened until the half-elf’s cursing and steps carried him far away from the center of town down the alleyways where he’d been expected to run. Prey ran sidelong, into corners and under dumpsters. Zelos was hunted, but he wasn’t prey yet. He’d be damned if a half-elf finished him off. Even he still had a little bit of pride left.

                He sat atop the roof like a hawk and kept tabs on his enemy in the storm until the time fit for him to drop down and head for the marketplace. Sheena was looking for… For _something_. Zelos cursed himself for being so scatterbrained, for so much of himself feeling fogged. At the very least he could buy a notebook amongst the stores and ask around for her. He just had to act fast, before that half-breed found him again.

                Despite the many flaws in Calaiste’s existence, it did follow the street grid of other cities of its kind which made it significantly easier to track down the market. He could have followed the sound of clinking money, of sliding hangers on rails in a clothes shop or the clinking of made metals, but it was more relaxing to rely on his deductive reasoning and not upon his angel illness.

                The shops were small, lined up in respective townhouse settings so every building held at least three facings. He went into the first shop on the street, not too picky at this point, and entered a tiny shop filled with cheap clothes that reeked of mothballs.

                Nobody behind the register or even amongst the racks. Looked like the shopkeeper was taking cover further into the building and had forgotten to lock their doors. Zelos would have thanked his luck if his luck didn’t require shelter from an assassin during a sleet storm while looking for his friend with no voice because he was a sacrifice for a world he hated and also he was in the hometown of his mother’s murderer. When phrased like that, luck really didn’t seem to factor in much at all.

                He poured over the racks, searching for something that’d hide his face away from the bastard out for his life outside the shops. What would he be looking for, now that they’d fought, now that they knew the way each other’s bodies moved when pumping with adrenaline and testosterone— …

                Zelos’s genius never failed to incorporate irony whenever it could and he rolled his eyes at the sheer perfection of his plan, the hilarious timing of Regal’s ‘tomcat chat’. Sheena would have balked at it, then probably laughed at it, but that didn’t matter. His life was at stake after all! If he did it right and swiftly enough, she’d never need to find out. (He’d need a whole notebook of paper to explain it to her without his voice.) Zelos grabbed a plain dress off the rack, black to downplay his muscle definition, and then went to find a garment he could stuff over his chest to give the right silhouette.  

                Half-way into changing in the small fitting room on the side wall, the bell over the door clanged as somebody entered the shop. Zelos quickly hurried along, stuffing and cursing inwardly as he pulled on the dress, not having enough time to empty out his pack of all the sleet that had turned to water inside of it. It sloshed as he moved. As a finishing touch, Zelos wrapped his neck with a thick scarf and looked himself over in the mirror.

                A feminine coat to cover his sword and shield (big enough not to call any attention in this kind of weather and cover the square shape of his body), then the boots, then the wig to top it all off—a light brown, long, wig that his natural hair put to shame. The fringe barely covered the bottoms of his eyebrows, muted the strawberry red of those hairs. It would allow him passing privilege down the street, especially if they were looking for a red-haired chosen instead of a mouse-brown haired woman. A tall woman, he realized. Zelos forced himself to slump to drop his height and cringed at the bad posture. He felt like a bumpkin, but then his eyes lingered over the scarf that covered his crystal and he thought, at least a bumpkin doesn’t have one of those. He felt better about it after that.

                “Hello?” the voice called out. A man’s voice, but not the half-breed trying to kill him. Zelos swallowed, remembering the one thing he couldn’t fake—a voice. Hopefully nobody could draw those lines, those connections.

                The stranger spotted the boots, the dress hem, under the curtain and made an assumption, lucky for Zelos. “Miss? Have you been in here long? I’m looking for somebody.”

                Zelos pulled back the curtain, thanked Martel that Calaiste was too poor to afford proper lighting in their buildings, and let the dim light shadow his face as he edged out enough to be seen. He lifted his hand, covered by the edge of his shirt sleeve to hide its square breadth, and coughed into it. Couldn’t talk, he was sick, see? Oh, the woes. He waved his hand in slight apology, made himself meek like the women he used to prey on. He’d need to give them all hundreds of roses in apology if he lived through this.

                The man—another half-elf damnit—startled Zelos with his size. A large one, with dark hair that stuck up in two tufts and painted his face in a sharp beard. He looked more like a dwarf with his blockiness, a sign whoever was human in him had been a bulking type of person, but those eyes, the way the pupil narrowed in the dim light, and the height of him… Half-elf. Zelos shouldn’t have expected more from a place like this.

                “Ah, I’m sorry,” his voice was far more refined than the other half-breed. From Sybak maybe? “I won’t keep you. My name is Botta. I’m looking for my friend.” He stepped closer. Zelos edged into the side of the curtain. Keep away keep away _keep away_. “You see, he has long, red hair…”

                Oh, no.

                Zelos clenched the curtain tighter and stared at the ground. He’d acted exactly as prey. Hadn’t expected the lion to travel in packs, had only thought of avoiding the one. But of course there was more. Of course.

                “Miss? Are you alright?”

                When he mustered the courage to glance back at Botta, he spotted the skeptical narrowing of the eyes and forced himself to look away. He remembered his travelpack, how it still sloshed about with water on the small bench in the changing curtain. Remembered how he could hiss like that cat. Remembered the one thing that always sent him reeling during a one-night stand, that never failed to make everybody uncomfortable.

                Zelos grabbed the curtain tighter, wretched in view for Botta so he hunched over more and shut his Wilder blue eyes. Then he turned behind the curtain so all Botta could see was boots under the curtain again and all he could hear was that chest clinking of writhing from Zelos, like a cat throwing up a hairball, and the splash as Zelos emptied his pack of water against the bench. A vomiting sick maiden. If anybody had told him that he’d play the role even a day ago, he would have laughed himself back into sanity. Now, he had to admit its usefulness.

                “Miss, are you alright?” Botta rushed forward and reached out to wrap an arm around Zelos’s shoulder. He knew the move, had done it a hundred times before, and Zelos really felt sick at the sheer presumptuousness of it. He shook his head at the thought, shook his wig loose, and his red hair came into sight.

                “ _You_ —!”

                Zelos turned and shoved his dagger into Botta’s chest.

                Interesting to find that even half-elves had hearts. Zelos twisted the blade and retracted, painting the wall with a slick line of blood. Botta writhed back only three steps before collapsing, his hand still a phantom on Zelos’s shoulder that chilled him far more than the weather outside could dare. The stench of death overcame the room, too small to hold the weight of what Zelos had just done. He shoved his hair back under the wig, double-checked himself in the mirror, noted that he still looked pretty good considering how stressful all of that mess just was, and he headed back out into the street. But not before he replaced his scarf. The other one didn’t mix well with half-elf blood.

                He had to find Sheena, get Regal and go back on that boat and never look back. This place was death.

                But maybe they’d know that. Maybe that’s why this was the only place they’d allowed him to be alone in.

                Sheena, Sheena, where was she where was she? He left the shop just as the ground shook from the thunder, the sleet still pouring in waves. She was probably at the inn by now, all this trouble for nothing. He darted back for the inn, taking every back alley way he could and almost running into that flash of blue twice. When Zelos reached the front door of the inn, he heard the half-elf yell out Botta’s name from inside the shop. Great, now he’d made it personal. That was just like him to do.

                Zelos hurried up the steps and into the inn room. His hand clenched as he held the doorknob in his palm. Even behind the walls and under that sleet, the half-breeds wrath spread to him. His heavy chest, breaths weighed with grief and anger. Zelos’s hand tightened around the knob and he threw his head back to stare at the ceiling, brown hair clouding his view.

                “Uhm?” Sheena. Behind him and shifting from the chair he’d been sitting in to stare Regal down in earlier. “Excuse me, but you have the wrong— _Zelos_?” She bolted up, half a laugh in her voice at the sight, but mostly she seemed perplexed.

                Zelos turned around, tearing off the wig and throwing it aside as he began to strip down, coat first, then his arms. He kicked off the boots and they skidded to a stop on the floor at the foot of the bed.

                Regal bolted up to his feet. “Where were you?” He stumbled back at the sight of Zelos. “Whose blood is that? Zelos, what happened?”

                Zelos shook his head and removed the dress next. “Where did you find those clothes?” Sheena asked and she paused before asking, in a higher octave, “ _Those too_!” when he got down to the stuffed bra that he ripped off and tossed to her. It slapped her square in the face and she threw it by the boots like it was radioactive. Zelos noted the cat was no longer in sight. He looked at Regal and mouthed, _Cat_?

                “In the bathroom.” That made sense. The door was shut and the cat couldn’t get into too much trouble in there. He turned back to his comrades. Regal had snatched the dress up and was now holding it up to the light. Even after being drenched from the melting sleet, it was clearly soaked with blood. “Zelos, this is serious, you need to tell us what happened,” he demanded before he looked Zelos over, searching for wounds and actually finding some after that fight with the first half-elf. His eyes widened and Regal breathed, “What did…”

                Sheena yanked Zelos down into the one seat in the room, red faced when his bare leg brushed against hers and he sat before her almost nude with the exception of his underwear. She snarled, “What the hell did you _do_?! Why didn’t you stay here?!” She whispered, almost a hiss, “ _Whose blood is that_?!”

                He shrugged. Stop yelling, sheesh.

                “Did you just shrug?” Regal balked.

                Zelos thrusted his throat out towards the two, since they clearly needed a reminder, and drew a finger across it twice over in the form of an X. He threw his arms up and leaned back again to cross them over his chest.

                “No talking.” Sheena seemed to have honestly forgotten. She looked around, huffy and grumbling, “Where’s that stupid notebook?”

                Regal padded over and knelt down to look the wounds over on Zelos’s chest. “… Some of these are deep,” he murmured as he healed him. Zelos shrugged again, because, yeah some of them were. Regal frowned, the same frown he’d made when the tomcat had squirmed earlier in his arms. The frown of a caretaker, doing what was best despite constantly being fought. Zelos pushed Regal’s prodding hands aside when Sheena plopped a notebook in his lap, conveniently over his crotch.

                “Whose blood is that?” He had to appreciate her brashness.

                _A half-elf._

“Why?” Her face softened in pity. No, Sheena, not a hate-crime. He wanted to roll his eyes, but instead he kept writing.

                _A half-elf attacked me on the street. His friend tried to find me later and I killed him before he realized it was me. Hence the disguise._

                “Did you know their names?” Regal inquired.

                _One of them. Botta. That’s where the blood is from._

                Regal rung the washcloth in his hands and bowed his head forward until it rested against the wall. Sheena scowled.

                “What is it?” she demanded.

                “Botta was one of the half-elves who came to me. From the renegades.” Regal lifted his head and frowned at Zelos patiently. Zelos blinked away the image of a younger Regal at a dinner party gently removing a glass of wine from his hands (“ _He’s just a child.”_ ) and slumped further into the chair. “Was the one who fought you blue-haired? Long, blue hair. Probably in a ponytail?”

                Zelos nodded.

                Regal bowed forward again. “Those are the renegades. That was Yuan—their leader.”

                “We need to leave then. We need to leave right now! Go back and find Kratos and Lloyd, or something!” Sheena grabbed a shirt and pants from Regal’s pack and tossed it to Zelos. He put them on quietly, feeling small in Regal’s clothes.

                Just before Regal would no doubt bring up the weather, the thunder slammed outside. Zelos shifted out of his seat and towards the bathroom. The acoustics and the storm were probably freaking the cat out, and Zelos wasn’t much help to them. Regal and Sheena let him go, now set on bickering with each other.

                “We can’t set sail in this storm,” Regal was saying when Zelos shut the door behind him. The cat had settled in the center of the tub. The tiny thing hissed up at him, but Zelos sat on the edge of the bath anyway and let his hand reach inside. It swatted, claws out, and drew blood. Oh well. He dripped on the white of the tub’s side.

                “Well, we can’t stay here! Did you see him? He was drenched in blood! Coming here was a mistake. Going to half-elves for help is a joke. They want him dead more than anybody else possibly could.”

                “Don’t generalize—”

               “Is it a generalization? Here, especially? Why didn’t we go to Sybak!?”

                “I thought being closer would be best.”

                “Closer to what? To the snow? To this town? Why don’t we go find the grave of that woman, see how much better he gets then?”

                Zelos winced when Sheena threw the notebook across the room and into the wall. The cat hissed again and he sunk further against the tubside. Claws tugged into skin once more and this time Zelos pulled away. No point in pushing it.

                “The storm was bad timing. There’s definitely someone in town who can help, we just need to find them.”

                “This person sounds like a Sybak type. We should just go _there_.” A slight whine in her voice. “Regal, please. We can’t stay here. This is making things worse, and you don’t even know if they’re really here.”

                “And now the renegades have his scent…” Zelos could practically see Regal’s Adam’s apple bob in the silence, swallowing back his guilt. “… I don’t know where the ship captain is. By the time we could leave, the storm will be over. We’d make better use keeping him close and just searching for her then—”

                “Shut up.”

                “I’m sorry?”

                The sound of a hand slapping over a mouth. Zelos sat up, now listening under the sleet for whatever Sheena had heard to make her jump Regal like that, their breaths now emitting so close together as they waited for the next noise. Zelos pressed close to the door, listened, and heard it. Footsteps on the roof, the clink of metal—of weapons—of enemies.

                He opened his mouth to warn them, but the window crashed open with the next thunder clang before Zelos could remember _he couldn’t speak_.

                “Where is he?” the half-breed, Yuan, yelling over the wind rushing into the room. Yelling over the stomping feet of two other assassins entering the room. Zelos’s weapons were on the floor by the bed, he had nothing in the bathroom. He scrambled away from the door and froze as Yuan demanded to know, “Where is the chosen?!”

                “Your guess is as good as ours!” Sheena snarled back, her voice jumping like she was struggling—they’d caught her. Regal’s grunt and then a thump of knees against floor. Of course they’d detain him as soon as they could, as imposing as he looked. “He just ran off!”

                Rustle of fabric, the swift smell of that bloodied garment getting hold of a new breeze. Yuan found the dress.

                “I said we don’t know where he is—Don’t touch me!” Sheena trying to push free. “Don’t go in there! He’s not in there! Please—Please, don’t!”

                “Sheena, stop,” Regal softly begging. They knew, the unsaid truth.

                “Please,” her voice quivering.

                Weapons. He had to find a weapon and make a run for it. He looked around the bathroom frantically, flipped over the bath mat in vain. The cat hissed at him. Stupid cat. Why had he even cared about it in the first place? The thing only wanted to hurt others. Who cared if he’d hurt it first? Things like that never showed gratitude, they’d just wait for a face to claw off— Ah…

                _If you’re impatient, try pulling its tail._

The doorknob turned. Zelos apologized loudly in his head, hoping the cat might pick it up telepathically, and he grabbed it by the tail. When Yuan opened the door, he launched the cat at his face: an unexpected, yowling grenade.

                Yuan screamed and stumbled back, fumbling to the ground as the cat clawed at his face, too wounded to make much distance, but angry enough to cause a lot of damage. The two accompanying muscle gawked, too shocked to know how to react at first. Regal on the floor, cuffed and bleeding from his head. Sheena bound by the arms of the larger henchman half a smile on her face, but mostly shock. It was becoming a common expression for her around Zelos.

                “GO!” Regal yelled to him. “NOW!”

                Zelos grabbed his shield, made a move for his sword, but the henchman launched something at him first. He blocked the attack—a knife—and took off for the window just as Yuan managed to throw the cat across the room. He hit the ground outside just as Yuan made it back to his feet and then Zelos ran.

                “Take them back to base! He’s mine,” Yuan’s words snarled at the edges of his heels and Zelos ran faster, bare feet slapping into puddle after puddle of slush and ice and rain. The cobbles cut into his heel, he stumbled forward, almost faceplanted, but surfaced before making contact, and continued. Out of the city, away from the city. Away.

                Regal said go. Here he went.

                Away.

                The storm strengthened, footsteps behind him sounded in waves. Yuan there, and then suddenly not. He ran faster, faster, faster, faster, oh Martel where was he? When nothing filled the air but his rabbit heart, he dropped down to the ground and tried to scream. Certainly he’d earned that by now?

                No sound.

                A step somewhere, miles away maybe? Feet away?

                Zelos jumped back to his feet and tore through the dirt like a wild hog.

                How long he ran until the thunder clap knocked him off his feet, he didn’t know. It sent him fumbling over himself until he made a home in the mud by the base of a tree. Another thunderclap and then a crack of a branch above, right above, falling and heading for him.

                “ _Go!”_ Regal’s voice, a reminder in his head to keep himself safe for some reason Zelos still couldn’t figure out. _“Now!”_

                Zelos rolled away, barely missed the branch, but here he was. Still alive.

                Why did he suddenly care about that so much?

                He settled back against the tree. Regal and Sheena had given themselves up for him. Sheena had lied despite the impossibility that Yuan wouldn’t check behind the bathroom door. They hadn’t led him to Calaiste to spite him, only to help him. Nobody seemed sorrier that it’d all gone south than those two.

                Yuan would kill them for what Zelos had done to Botta.

                Zelos slapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a shaking breath at the reminder. Oh, what had he done? If he’d only stayed… And given himself up? Regal had already been threatened by the renegades… Sheena was an official member of the regeneration party… They’d been doomed from the very start, ever since they decided they were on Zelos’s side. He had cursed them.

                Zelos hadn’t meant to. Honestly, he hadn’t. He never meant to… Why didn’t anybody believe him?

 

                He studied half-elves growing up like some children studied astrology or literature or history. He studied half-elves like specimens, watched them from the corners of his eyes like he’d just spotted a rare bird. Exotic, wild, dangerous, interesting.

                He asked Mother about them. She hummed, “I suppose they have some appeal. They’re at least half-human.”

                “What about elves?” Zelos had asked.

                “Elves are fine,” she answered. “Wise people.”

                “So what about the half-elves?”

                She turned to look at the wall and smiled. “Half-elves come from outcasts on both sides. Humans who are disdained and Elves who cannot hold to their species’ standards. Humans as a whole are fine, as are elves, but half-elves are simply… The recyclables of dirty, broken parts. The combination of the negatives.”

                “So they’re no good?” Zelos tried.

                “Not particularly. No.”

 

                The storms outside of Calaiste lasted so long. He’d never known that before he’d settled at the tree. This was his tree now. He’d sit here forever, he decided. Maybe Lloyd and Kratos would come back and find him there. Whatever Kratos was hiding, maybe it would lead him to Zelos, lost in the woods. He missed Kratos’s know-it-all attitude, though he hated to admit it. He wished he knew anything at all right now. He missed Lloyd’s optimism. He missed thinking things would be okay.

                Zelos sunk into the dirt and coiled up tighter, a fetal ball in the deep night of the storm.

                Steps sounding from maybe a half a mile away. Yuan? Kratos? Lloyd? Regal? Sheena? Anybody? He wanted to call out, but he couldn’t, so he wrapped up tighter in Regal’s too big clothes—the clothes that were filthy and muddied and layered with a thin sheet of ice—and hoped it would be somebody who wouldn’t know anything about him. Not prey or predator. He wished he could be an infant and blameless and new, but even as an infant he’d never been any of those things.

                Then maybe he could be somebody else. He thought of the scarf around his neck that had covered the crystal and missed it now. He’d take it and the rest of the disguise forever if it just meant he didn’t have to be Zelos Wilder, Chosen of Tethe’alla, anymore.

                The steps neared and he began to differentiate. Not Regal, not Kratos, not Lloyd. Not Yuan, thank Martel, it was not Yuan. Sheena? … No, the steps weren’t light enough. But they were still small, still gentle. Too controlled to be a child’s pace, especially in the midst of a storm like this. A storm like this, he remembered, and panic seized him. Who would be out in a storm like this?

                The steps came closer and he couldn’t find the will to move. Why bother when he needed to be found? He had to gamble, had to hope that this person wouldn’t control him in light of his confusion and his condition and his position. He had to hope this person would do well by him. He had to hope because hope was all he had left.

                He could hope or he could kill them. Like he’d killed Botta.

                Zelos reached up and grabbed at his hair, remembering that yell of anguish of Yuan when he’d found the body. Remembering his own yell in the snow as a boy for Mother Mother what happened Mother. He pressed his face into the mud and wished he could scream it all away.

                A hand lifted him out from the mud—he hadn’t even realized she’d made it to him—and she turned him towards her. He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, to see just who could smell so sweet like rosemary and white tea in the midst of a devil’s storm like this. He couldn’t bring himself to look at any more angels. He was through with angels.

                “Are you okay? Can you hear me?” her voice was strong and soft, like a guardian.

                She lifted his chin up and paused. Her thin fingers reached up and gently patted his cheeks. He didn’t open his eyes, refused to, until she blew lightly on his lashes and his lids involuntarily flickered up.

                The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen gazed back at him, bright blue eyes gleaming in the night, pupils just slightly slitting from the dark and lighting up the concaves of her tanned face. Her silver hair shined, a halo of white when paired with the shine of the ice hanging off the trees behind her. She smiled and even that seemed to glow from her like starlight.

                “I’d like to help you, if you’d let me,” the half-elf said. She told him her name, hands healing him as she poured over his injuries in the dark. In the midst of a storm, he found peace in Raine.

               


	10. Chapter 10

            Raine’s grip on his arm held steady, like her bones were fastened together with bits of steel and iron, and she had no problem lifting him out of the mud and into her embrace. At first, a kind motion, but Zelos quickly realized she was feeling him for wounds and body size—to attest if he truly was as small as he looked, or if the clothes were just simply too big. She then removed her cloak, a warm color of brown fashioned in men’s styling, and put it over their heads so they could walk together without the needling of sleet on their skin. Her eyes flickered to his chest, his crystal, and then back up to his face.

            “We’re not far from my home,” she told him. He nodded a few times, still shaking despite not feeling the ice that was beginning to coat their eyelashes. She blinked the shards away from her own eyes. “Can you walk with me?”

            Zelos nodded, and then they walked. Her, prestigious and wise, pressed against his side to keep the cloak over their heads, and him, weak and bloodied and disgustingly filthy, padding alongside her like a broken doll. Sometimes when he spared glances at her face, he thought of her infectiousness and swallowed. And other times, he saw the unmistakable aura of half-breed in her features, and, at those times also, he swallowed again. Because a half-elf who knew his name could never want to help him, and Zelos was unsure if he could stand being hated by Raine now that she’d shown him such kindness.

            The billow of smoke from the small cabin was the first thing he saw, and then he could hear the crackle of wood burning inside. It looked so far removed from where he’d been found—how did Raine know to search him out? He decided that he didn’t want to know.

            She walked him up the steps, careful, and then opened the door and pushed him lightly inside. “Go sit by the fire,” she ordered. Zelos saw no reason to ignore her, so he did as she told him to do. He settled against the wall by the fire place, exhausted and unfeeling, and stared into the red flames for only Martel knew how long. He only blinked away from the sparks when Raine returned with warm clothes and a quilt in her hands, which she slapped down onto the floor.

            “Are you scared or mute?” She knelt down next to the supplies and began to strip him down without asking. Zelos pulled back, suddenly awake, and narrowed his eyes.

            She patiently reminded him, “New clothes won’t do you any good if you don’t take these off first,” and continued the process with a healer’s objectivity. Her fingers tugged his hair out of the way and twisted it over his shoulder so she could fuss over the wounds. When she got to a particularly nasty, gored piece of flesh, she’d glance up when she applied pressure. Raine’s lips flattened when he didn’t react, but she continued anyway until the last piece of interest was the cruxis crystal around his neck.

            Her fingers danced around the crest until her tips touched the bottom of his jaw. Zelos was left to involuntarily gulp back his nerves once more. She smirked every time he shuffled or moved and then stared up at him with those sharp eyes as though she wanted to burn the shame into the helixes of his broken DNA.

            Zelos pulled away from her, grabbed the clothes, and shoved them onto his shoulders. Raine leaned back, patient, and watched until Zelos had finally finished bundling himself up in blankets and clothes. Warmth and cold weren’t parts of him, but blankets were undeniably comforting, despite how childish it felt at times to curl up like a wrapped pastry and ignore the world.

            “I’ve thought about what I’d say to you if we ever met. For years—since I was a little girl.”

            Despite himself, his eyes darted over to take in Raine’s expression. Her heartbeat was steady, her eyes were still holding that strong gaze with him. The only sign of any lack of composure was the tapping of her fingers along the outside of the muddied knee of her pants.

            “You’re the cause of a lot of grief for half-elves...” She stood up. “Or so I once thought.” And she walked away from the fire to go into the kitchen, though she still spoke. “Luckily for you, I know prejudices don’t root solely from the tragedy of one little boy.” As she continued, her knowledge branched out wide—though his brain was having problems following even the simpler strands—and Zelos was suddenly reminded of that clear confusion-free gaze of Kratos, soon followed by a pang of nostalgia. He scrunched his nose up just as Raine returned with an already prepared sandwich. She set the plate on the floor in front of him and watched him turn away from the food back towards the fire.

            “Are you sure?”

            He nodded.

            Raine shrugged and took the food back, taking a bite of it herself. When she swallowed, she continued her questions.

            “Chosen one, why won’t you speak? Do you hate us half-elves so much?” Her words trailed when he winced at his title. “… Zelos,” she tried again, suddenly tentative at using a name with somebody so far above her status, “why won’t you speak?”

            Zelos looked away from the flames and mouthed the words.

            _I can’t._

            Raine’s eyebrows pulled together.

            “Why not?”

            His breath hiccupped like a sob he wanted and couldn’t have, before he tapped the crystal between his collar bones. When Raine remet his eyes, her face was somber.

            She leaned forward and pressed her fingers against the crystal again, tracing along the lines and edges made of angel’s gold as he began to shake again, even under so many layers of warmth.

            “So, this is the journey of regeneration…” She murmured the words. Then, a whisper that felt like a gust against the ends of his matted hair, “I’m sorry for you.”

            Zelos yanked her fingers away with a vice grip, his fist wrapped around her wrist like animals’ claws until the nails dug deep into her half-breed skin. Her breath left swiftly, but her courage did not, and she stared him down with her nose held high.

            “For somebody so afraid of half-elves, you and I have more in common than you know.”

            _What is that?_

            He articulated the words so the consonants snapped out even without his voice box. She only smirked.

            “We’re both hated just for being alive.”

            Only months ago, Zelos could have seen it coming from a mile away. But, instead, he jerked back in surprise when Raine shoved herself forward and their lips collided. In the past, Zelos would have sneered at the idea of really consummating with a half-elf, with ever walking into ones’ home, and yet…

            He melted and sunk backwards onto the floor, her fingers constantly preoccupied with his neck and the crystal until her kisses landed there too and Zelos was left almost convulsing with the fear and the pleasure and the fact that he was finally feeling _something_ , despite all those weeks of not eating or sleeping or speaking.

            He put his hands up and pushed her away with a semblance of strength. Raine stilled, shocked.

            “Another lie in your reputation, Chosen?” Her sarcasm leaked.

            Zelos shook his head and grabbed up, until his hands were wrapped around her body and Raine went tense. Finally, she eased beside him, looking his face over for an answer.

            “I guess I misread you.” She tugged away to leave.

            Zelos pressed his hands into her more, thirsty for the touch of skin pressed against skin. He forced himself to kiss her, and she stopped him with her hand.

            “So sad. You are… So sad. More than I could have ever thought.” Raine let her fingers dance along his neck and he kept his nose buried into the muscle of her neck. In the quiet, he shook. Raine only tsked and let him claw at her like a starved animal at a carcass.

            This new world was not a world where he was no longer on the journey to give himself away, to die, but a world in which he was hated for being alive—destined to die—and now was encompassed in sharing a moment of wordless wonder with a woman who understood too how easy it was to become an idea of a person. Whether it be her life as a half-breed monstrosity or his birthright of martyrdom, they were two figures dancing together, forbidden, alone, and now understood. If only for a moment. And words could only have clouded it. His words would never have allowed such a moment to happen.

            Raine tangled her fingers in his hair. He shut his eyes and let it happen.

            “Will you die?”

            He nodded.

            “Do you want to die?”

            Zelos froze and turned away from Raine’s interrogation. The small sniff she gave sounded like a smirk, and sure enough when he opened his eyes again, she was smirking once more—eternally amused by the prospect of his death.

            “The desians are looking for you,” she told him, “The renegades as well… Cruxis too.”

            Zelos’s eyebrows pulled together. The desians he knew of, vaguely, and he’d met the renegades already. But Cruxis? Like his crystal? Like the angels? They already had him, why would they be looking?

            “You will probably always die,” Raine’s hands stilled over the crystal. “In fact, it’s inevitable for all of us… But you can always pick who you die for. You can always make a deal.”

            _Did you make a deal?_

            Raine shook her head a little too quickly. “No. No… I don’t have the stomach to involve myself in these politics anymore. I like living out here, away from the chaos, rescuing stray chosen’s when they come across my cabin.” She smiled fondly at him, but it faded just as fast.

            “No, I did not make a deal… But somebody who is looking for you has. If he sees you here, I can’t make promises as to what might happen.”

            He thought back on the chase in Calaiste, how Regal and Sheena had been arrested and he was so very alone now. Zelos straightened up from his lying position so he could look around the room.

            “What is it?”

            _Paper._

            Raine swiftly obeyed, left, and came back with a piece of paper and a pen. Zelos clenched the pen, took a deep breath, and began. If only Regal had been there to see him write so much. Sheena would have been proud too.

            _I was separated from my friends. Regal Bryant and Sheena Fujibayashi. The Renegades attacked us in Calaiste and I was the only one to escape. I heard them say they were taken by a man named Yuan to their base. I need to find them. Will you help me?_

_I have two mercenaries who I also was separated from at the Southern Abbey. We can find them if you think we need more help._

And then, for some semblance of humor he couldn’t quite shake:

_Please check your answer:_

            _☐_ _Yes_

 _☐_ _No_

            She read through the paper quickly, smiled at the end boxes, and asked, “Is there a maybe option?”

            He leaned over and swiped his finger under the word _No_.

            Raine took the pen from him, made her check, and handed back the sheet. It read:

            _☑_ _Yes_

 _☐_ _No_

           

            It occurred to Zelos, after the third day on the road with Raine, that he knew very little about her. He knew, certainly, that she was ostracized, intelligent, mysterious, courageous, and doubtlessly merciful. He knew she was curious, because she stopped and looked at things even in the cold, iced forest outside of Calaiste like they held unfathomable beauty, though Zelos couldn’t see it past the snow. He could spot eager adrenaline coursing through her veins when she dragged him by the arm to look at things—he couldn’t say what the things were, life got so cloudy sometimes… But what brought Raine to the cabin and caused her to isolate herself, or what made her so willing to help him? No, Zelos didn’t know that.

            She walked with a steady pace through the woods with him. Regal’s clothes had been dried and now were wrapped tight around him with the help of a few more layers of clothing. Raine did not fret in the traditional sense like Regal and Sheena did. She checked him in ways that felt medicinal.

            When he came close to entering the fog, Raine grabbed his hand.

            “Does that help you stay grounded?”

            Turned out that it didn’t. He dissociated with her hand in his.

            “I’ve read many stories about the chosen’s journeys,” she told him later, “I’m a bit of an expert now. I can’t read angelic as well as you probably can, but I can read the translations and the history.”

            Raine rubbed her thumb over his hand when Zelos started blanking out again.

            “You keep dropping off when I bring up the journey,” she said. “You keep running from it. You can’t beat it if you run from it.”

            Zelos pulled his hand away and shoved it into his pocket.

            What did she know? A half-elf was one thing, but at least she could go into town. There was a whole label dedicated to her awfulness, clubs of people just dying to be hated together. He was one of one. The only chosen one to speak of in the world.

            “Most, if not all, chosens hate the journey, did you know that?” Raine mused. “There are ruins here, far away from where the church can touch, of the old journeys… The terrified figures. They were escorted by parties who were there to protect, but also ensure the goals of the church.”

            Her arms reached out wide. “They’d tie the chosens down in carts and drag them from shrine to shrine to ensure they did not die. There are journals of townsfolk who could recount the cries of the chosen as they passed through the villages, weeping for help.”

            Zelos grabbed her arm and stopped her short. Raine blinked and turned to him expectantly.

            _Stop,_ he mouthed.

            Raine paused and stared into his eyes.

            “It’s happening to you, Zelos. It’s why I bring it up at all.” She narrowed her eyes. “They are using you until there is nothing left. Your mind is ill and it has nothing to do with the angelic process. You are emotionally not ready for this.”

            She pulled away from his hand and offered the notebook. “Do you have something to say to that? Or will you leave again, forced back into your head where they can’t hurt you anymore? Or will you stay with me, and let me tell you what you need to know?”

            Zelos’s hand slipped down to his side and he looked away from her once he realized she wouldn’t back down first.

            “You cannot trust anybody, Zelos.” Raine reached up to force him to look back at her. “Not even me. Do you understand?”

            There were no tears, but the desperation in her voice was tangible in the grip she held on his face. He nodded.

            “Good.” Raine released him. “Let’s move on.”

            Raine was smart and Zelos was no idiot either, but they knew that a Renegade base would be difficult to infiltrate, even for them. The idea was to find Lloyd first, back track along the shores until they found a docking where the red mercenary would likely pass through. Raine’s thoughts were that, if Kratos and Lloyd had only stayed back to talk, that Lloyd wouldn’t be far behind on his path to catch up with them at Calaiste. The sentiment seemed sound—just a day of sorting through the problems between the two would be enough to get them back on the trail. So they headed for the shore, Zelos not bothering to double check the map he didn’t have.

            Raine brought their journey to a stop outside of a city of ruins. “How many ruins have you seen so far?”

            Zelos sneered and didn’t answer.

            Raine almost laughed. “They’re more fun without the regeneration, I assume.” Her sense of humor was sick. She bounced up the steps of the ruins, her hands running alongside the railing. Zelos crossed his arms uncomfortably.

            Raine scampered over to him, grabbed his hand, and then dragged him back over to the stone. “Can you read this?” she demanded. Her finger poked the carvings in Angelic. Zelos shrugged her off of him and took a few steps away. He nodded, to humor her, but that was all she’d get.

            “Stop moping. Tell me what it says.”

            He shot her a glare, crossed his arms tighter, and looked anywhere but at the ruins. Raine dragged her feet back over and she pressed into his side, all curves and padding underneath her clothes. She pushed the notebook and pen they’d been carrying around since the cabin back into his hand. “Tell me what it says.”

            He looked back at the words. It wasn’t a ruin like the seals had been, but instead a ruin of stories.

            On the block in front of him, the pictographs detailed a figure in religious garb (not unlike himself until the journey had gotten too violent) tied to carts and surrounded by guards. Raine rested her hand on his arm and whispered, “They will do anything to see this through to the end, and they can be anyone. Do you understand?”

            Zelos shook her off and whipped around to stare at her. Every word she spoke now felt more and more like a warning, and yet she kept moving closer to him. Each step matched with the advice that he should run and he felt unavoidably afraid and confused of what was to come.

            “Do you want me to leave you yet?” she asked.

            Despite everything, he shook his head no. He couldn’t bear to be alone, not anymore.

            She frowned.

            “Chosen!”

            Raine’s head jerked aside towards the voice—the familiar, deep, masculine voice. Zelos’s reaction was a little more lulled—she sent his senses in hundreds of directions away from hypersensitivity—and his legs went weak when he saw the two mercenaries running towards them. Kratos led and Lloyd struggled to keep up behind him. Raine held Zelos’s bicep tightly in her hand and showed no signs of letting him go, even when Kratos slid to a halt. Lloyd stumbled to a pause just alongside.

            “Chosen one,” Kratos panted, “What were—Never mind. Never mind.”

He seemed so… relieved? Zelos stepped back slightly into Raine and clenched his jaw. Kratos wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy guy, but that didn’t stop Zelos from feeling lightheaded. From just wanting to have people around who knew who he was and not kill him for it.

            If Kratos made him feel faint, the sight of Lloyd made him feel positively nauseous. Before he knew it, Zelos was sinking to the ground, those weak knees finally giving out, and he sat down on the ruins with his legs spread out.

            Kratos and Lloyd hurried forward. “Move,” Kratos ordered Raine, and she stepped aside with quick answer. Lloyd grabbed Zelos by one arm, Kratos grabbed the other. “We can’t stay here,” Kratos told Zelos, though he watched Raine the entire time as they hoisted him off the ground. “The ruins are dangerous.”

            “They’re not so dangerous,” Raine assured.

            “Who are you supposed to be?” Lloyd blurted at her.

            Zelos puffed out a breathy, silent laugh and lulled against Kratos when Lloyd let go of him. The young man stepped forward and stomped with peacocking strength up to Raine. She lifted her chin up like a smug house cat.

            “My name is Raine Sage. I found your friend in the woods during the storm.”

            Kratos, who had been looking Zelos over while Lloyd handled Raine, looked at her with caution. “Where did the wounds come from?”

            “He told me he was attacked.” Raine handed over the notebook to Lloyd. “It’s all in there.”

            Lloyd blinked, took the notebook, and glanced over at Kratos and Zelos. “You didn’t write in it for us,” he said, hilariously offended. Zelos smiled again, but then he shut his eyes and sighed.

            “Stop that,” Kratos mumbled when Zelos started sliding down towards the ground again. “You’re stronger than that.” He jilted Zelos up with a forceful jerk until Zelos’s head was completely resting on Kratos’s shoulder. _Just end it, man,_ Zelos wanted to tell him, _just put me out of my misery for once._

            “I was in the city of Calaiste with my comrades and was attacked by renegade leader, Yuan. My friends--…” He didn’t need to have his eyes opened to hear the frown in Lloyd’s voice as he read from the notebook. “My friends were arrested…”      

            Lloyd slapped the notebook shut. “We need to find them.”

            “The renegades have a base further along the shore,” Raine said. “We were on our way there. We were also looking for you two.” Then, with suspicion, “We were assuming you’d be traveling through towns.”

            “We’re not obligated to travel by common pathways when we’re not escorting,” Kratos informed her. “You never answered Lloyd’s question. Who are you?”

            “I told you my name.”

            “You seem smart enough to gather that those two things, name and identity, are not synonymous.”

            “And you seem wise enough to know that first hand, Sir…?”

            “Kratos.”

            “Well, Kratos,” Raine began. “I am—”

            “A half-elf who knows the location of renegade bases. Forgive me if I do not trust you, Raine Sage, but I find it very difficult to place any amount of confidence in your abilities.” Kratos jilted Zelos again until his eyes opened. He lifted his head, drowsy and sleepless, to look at him in disinterest. Kratos scowled. “Did you give him anything?”

            “You know as well as I do that he won’t eat anything like this,” Raine scoffed. She tried to step closer, but Lloyd drew first sword. “The journey is rupturing him.”

            “Don’t even think about coming any closer,” he growled.

            “Stop this nonsense!” Raine barked. Zelos straightened up. “If you would just ask him, he would tell you I’m fine. We were on our way to get his comrades out of the base, and on our way to find you two as well. I will not be crucified for being a half-elf by _mercenaries_. The irony would kill me long before the bigotry could.” She unsheathed her staff from the strap around her back, and pushed her way past Lloyd.

            “If I recall correctly, his companions left because they could not trust _you_ ,” Raine continued, “So spare me your judgement and allow me to help. I’m a healer.”

            Lloyd lowered his weapons and turned to Kratos in distress. The older of the brothers sneered and then used his free hand to point to a nearby tree. “Go stand there while we talk.”

            “Is there anything else I can do for you?” Raine’s sarcasm was lethal. She walked away anyway, though her eyes never left the three men.

            As soon as she stood by the tree, Kratos and Lloyd reeled on Zelos. “Yuan attacked you?” Kratos was firm, but something buzzed under the words. Whatever he and Lloyd had spoken about while they were separated had put something new inside him. Some sort of impatience to finish what they’d started. Zelos nodded.

            “Was there anybody else with him? Did he fight Sheena and Regal? Did you see them being arrested or did you only see them fighting?”

            Zelos frowned and turned to Lloyd for help. “Answer one at a time?” Lloyd suggested dumbly, evidently having forgotten about the notebook in his hand.

            Zelos nodded, nodded, and then frowned again. “Did you see them being arrested?” Kratos tried again. Zelos nodded.

            “Why would Yuan arrest them?” Lloyd asked.

            “Bait. Yuan saw the chosen one walking around without his proper escorts—implying his current company means something to him. He goes in alone, and the Yuan has the upper hand in location and can overpower him.”

            Lloyd scowled and turned away. “You mean that he can kill him.”

            “Yes.”

            Zelos stared down at the earth again, constantly covered with the thinnest layer of ice that made the dirt snap underneath each step.

            “How did she find you?” Kratos asked before pressing the notebook into his hand.

            The pen felt heavy, hard to hold and harder to make sense of.

            Kratos shook him.

            “Come on,” he growled. “If Yuan thinks he can’t yield results with them, he will kill them. You know this. You’ve seen what he can do.”

            Yes, and it felt all so hopeless to resist.

            He wrote anyway.

            _I ran._

            Zelos dropped the notebook back into Kratos’s lap and went to stand. His legs had trouble moving underneath him and he stumbled back down.

            “He does that sometimes!” Raine yelled at seeing the brothers clearly struggling with Zelos. “Do you want my help or not?”

            “Nope!” Lloyd quickly yelled back. “We are fine!” Then, under his breath, “Sybak know-it-all.”

            “Chosen one, there are desians and renegades throughout this area. These are transportation hubs for them, heavily dense with half-elves. You can’t trust them here,” Kratos warned. “I thought I didn’t need to tell you such a thing, given your history.”

            Lloyd frowned at him. “Why did you tell her so much?”

            Zelos sighed and ran his hand over the back of his neck and offered a shrug he could barely manage to finish. Kratos scowled and voiced the answer, albeit with a shamed tone.

            “He was alone, and scared.”

            With that, Kratos stood and began walking towards Raine. “Stay with him,” he said over his shoulder to Lloyd, “I will talk with her.”

            Lloyd scowled and eased down beside Zelos’s side. “Those wounds look rough, man,” he offered softly. “… _You_ look rough, actually. Way worse than when we were at the abbey.”

            Zelos scoffed. It was hard to imagine what Lloyd expected. That the off-time might cure Zelos’s voice and heart of everything that had happened. Instead, he’d been carted around like cargo and made to fight a battle he didn’t believe in. He lost Regal and Sheena too…

            “It’s not your fault Yuan caught them,” Lloyd firmly said.

            Zelos shot him a ‘oh really?’ look. Given how incensed it made Lloyd, Zelos was sure it had worked.

            “I mean it! It isn’t your fault.” Lloyd took a deep breath and crossed his arms. “I talked to Kratos about the trials, okay? He told me the next one will fix it. You’ll get your voice back. The way he explained it, it’s like a fast. You’re just honing stuff before getting upgrades, or something like that. Aah…” Lloyd scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know though. He explained it better.”

            Zelos grabbed the notebook back up.

            _Raine showed me ruins of old chosen journeys. They were tied down, tortured into continuing until they lost their minds. They were held to traveling by being chained to carts by mercenaries and lied to._

            Lloyd read the words slowly, and Zelos could pinpoint the exact moment Lloyd got to the horror. He swallowed and looked back at Zelos.

            “I know you don’t trust him, but he would never do that.”

            Then with more vindication, “I would never let him do that.” Lloyd scowled. “See, I’ll explain it. I didn’t explain it well enough before, but I got it now. Each journey gives you more properties. You’ll be able to be your own keycrest by the end. You just aren’t finished yet! It’ll work out, I promise!”

            As tempting as it was to sink into Lloyd’s naivety, he was torn away from the promise to look towards Raine and Kratos and to see her walking away, back into the forest without even a goodbye in his direction.

            “Is she leaving?” Lloyd yelled.

            Kratos waited to answer until he was back beside the two. “Yes. She agreed that she is ill-equipped to assist in this journey. She will leave the fighting to the fighters.”

            Was that what she said? That didn’t line up at all. Zelos stared through the forest and, ah, there she was, and she _was_ looking back at him after all, with a worried expression painting those features of hers.

            “Let us hurry to the base. I coordinated my map with hers and the locations lined up. We should be able to reach them soon and retrieve Duke Bryant and Sheena.”

            Lloyd nodded. He held his hand out to Zelos, but Zelos stood on his own, still locked on the direction Raine had left in.

            “Come on, man. Just a bit longer. We’re almost there,” Lloyd urged. He put a hand on Zelos’s shoulder to turn him away and back to the path he’d been taking with Raine.

            “I see your reputation cannot be marred even without your speech, Chosen One,” Kratos taunted.

            Maybe that was all it was. Just good old lust rearing its head again. But he knew lust, and it didn’t normally pair with the feeling of omniscience of Raine. How did she know about the bases, and why did she want him so badly to understand his situation with trust. It didn’t benefit her to make him paranoid. Not in a way Zelos could figure out. Without Raine there to pull him out, Zelos stepped through the motions with a debilitating numbness attached to his bones. The sort of feeling that paired with the overarching need to sob, but never the time to do it.

            Lloyd looked at Zelos for a long moment, then looked back to Kratos.

            “Did they used to chain the chosens up? To get them to finish the journeys, I mean.”

            Kratos’s eyebrows pulled together.

            “Where did you hear something so ludicrous?”

            Lloyd shrugged. “Nowhere I guess. Just wondering.”

            Kratos spared a glance at Zelos, but he was elsewhere again, hiding in the only safe place he had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to finish this soon before continuing on with new projects. I didn't realize it had been so long since I updated! Hope you all will forgive me. 
> 
> This chapter is a bit shorter than my usual updates, but only to anticipate the increased length that is incoming. We're almost to the final seal! Expect angst!


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